Tekster:
Ninety Pound Wuss Where Meager Die Of Self Interest

I hate what you've done to me I hate what I feel Pail love gone void Cracks in your smile lipstick smear We used to be like animals Now there's nothing

Heart ripped indecision, my pain Death, breaking, decaying Twisting my inside while trying Enduring cause failing Hope fleeting diminished Lost cound

The need to realize Shot, shot, shot, blank Staring down the barrel of my arm Shot, shot, shot, dead It's over drawn black Shot, shot, shot, red No restrictions

Some people believe such stupid lies How can you not see? Studying the word every day But you still manage to deceive The masses feel good Raised there

Victory draws closer As death comes in around me The cracks in your face reveal Everything I thought was true The lies of me and you The song quickens

Crash triggers clinging chokers Choking victory dry Don't panic simply randomly So what she has alzheimers Mathematically epileptic If she don't wet

A quick glance forward Only lends a hard hand backwards Leaning not on self alone Yet feeling sufficient for life giving forces Recklessness ends all