P.O.R. FUCK YOURSELF
dont even take a breath the air is cut with cyanide
in honor of the new year
the press gives us cause to celebrate
these air raid sirens, barbed wire skylinds by artificial night,
as we sleep to burn the red from our bloodless lives.
tonight were all time bombs on fault lines
have we lost everything now?
we're walking like each others ghosts
around these silent streets
(the sedatives tells you everything is all right)
like calendars dying at new years eve parties
as we kiss hard on the lips
and swear this year will be better than the last
jet black-the ink that spells your name.
jet black- the blood thats in your veins.
jet blcak-we say how long can we take this chance not to celebrate?
theres music playing but we dance to the beat of our own black hearts
and draw diagrams of suicide on each others wrists,
then trace them with razorblades.
fire to flames, strike match
burn these words from our lips
as the dagger screams love is dead
and its a newspaper tragedy
have we lost what we love?
have we said everything
does it change anything?
stare at the clock, avoid at all costs,
this emptiness.
ten seconds left until midnight
nine chances to drown ourselfs in black hair dye
eight faces turned away from the shock
seven windows and
six of them were locked
five stories falling
four ever and ever
three cheers for the mirror now of the
two of us can we have
one last dance
how long can we take this chance not to celebrate life?
Small, simple, safe price
Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets
This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals
And I am not afraid to die
I'm not afraid to bleed, and fuck, and fight.
I want the pain of payment
What's left, but a section of pigmy size cuts
Much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks
Would you be my little cut?
Would you be my thousand fucks?
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid
To fill, and spill over, and under my thoughts
My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter
I'm cutting trying to picture your black broken heart
Love is not like anything
Especially a fucking knife
Look at me, you can tell
By the way I move and do my hair
Do you think that it's me or it's not me?
I don't even care
I'm alive
I don't smell
I'm the cleanest I have ever been.
I feel big, I feel tall, I feel dry (dry)
[Chorus:]
Just look at me, look at me now
I'm a fake [x4]
Just look at me, look at me now
I'm a fake [x4]
Do I drink? Do I date?
I've got perfect placement all my ink
Satisfied, in your eyes
I'm the biggest fan I've got right now
I made sure, that I look how I wanted to look
The people around me, the people surround me
I feel big, I feel tall, I feel dry (dry)
[Chorus]
My stomach hurts now, and all tied off in lace
I pray, I beg for anything, to hit me in the face
and this sicknes isn't me, I pray to fall from grace
The last thing I see is feeling
And I'm telling you I'm a fake [x4]
And I'm telling you I'm...
in honor of the new year
the press gives us cause to celebrate
these air raid sirens, barbed wire skylinds by artificial night,
as we sleep to burn the red from our bloodless lives.
tonight were all time bombs on fault lines
have we lost everything now?
we're walking like each others ghosts
around these silent streets
(the sedatives tells you everything is all right)
like calendars dying at new years eve parties
as we kiss hard on the lips
and swear this year will be better than the last
jet black-the ink that spells your name.
jet black- the blood thats in your veins.
jet blcak-we say how long can we take this chance not to celebrate?
theres music playing but we dance to the beat of our own black hearts
and draw diagrams of suicide on each others wrists,
then trace them with razorblades.
fire to flames, strike match
burn these words from our lips
as the dagger screams love is dead
and its a newspaper tragedy
have we lost what we love?
have we said everything
does it change anything?
stare at the clock, avoid at all costs,
this emptiness.
ten seconds left until midnight
nine chances to drown ourselfs in black hair dye
eight faces turned away from the shock
seven windows and
six of them were locked
five stories falling
four ever and ever
three cheers for the mirror now of the
two of us can we have
one last dance
how long can we take this chance not to celebrate life?
Small, simple, safe price
Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets
This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals
And I am not afraid to die
I'm not afraid to bleed, and fuck, and fight.
I want the pain of payment
What's left, but a section of pigmy size cuts
Much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks
Would you be my little cut?
Would you be my thousand fucks?
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid
To fill, and spill over, and under my thoughts
My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter
I'm cutting trying to picture your black broken heart
Love is not like anything
Especially a fucking knife
Look at me, you can tell
By the way I move and do my hair
Do you think that it's me or it's not me?
I don't even care
I'm alive
I don't smell
I'm the cleanest I have ever been.
I feel big, I feel tall, I feel dry (dry)
[Chorus:]
Just look at me, look at me now
I'm a fake [x4]
Just look at me, look at me now
I'm a fake [x4]
Do I drink? Do I date?
I've got perfect placement all my ink
Satisfied, in your eyes
I'm the biggest fan I've got right now
I made sure, that I look how I wanted to look
The people around me, the people surround me
I feel big, I feel tall, I feel dry (dry)
[Chorus]
My stomach hurts now, and all tied off in lace
I pray, I beg for anything, to hit me in the face
and this sicknes isn't me, I pray to fall from grace
The last thing I see is feeling
And I'm telling you I'm a fake [x4]
And I'm telling you I'm...