Tekster: Chambers. Other. 273d.

My chest is hovering over a void,
separating it from my waist,
Always September when all falls down,
choking on air, headaches, and heartache.

I can't tell what you're thinking,
but something's telling me it's better kept a mystery
Everybody's telling me something different,
I'm telling you I think that you'd better

SHUT UP (SHUT UP)
You're all making me sick.
SHUT UP (SHUT UP)
I'm telling you I'm innocent

Now I realize there's too much time,
to wonder and digest my stomach.
There won't be a goodbye.
I'll see you next week, doe-eyed with tears dried.

They'll never know the truth.

You'll always paint me as the one to abuse.
But the truth of the matter is this is your only excuse.