| Stab you with scissors, and let’s hold hands
|
| Blew out my birthday candles, wished that you were dead (Goodbye…)
|
| Slice you to ribbons, lay next to me
|
| Let’s give each other lobotomies
|
| Slit your throat and zip you up
|
| I won’t fuck up your pretty make-up
|
| Tell your friends, try not to brag
|
| You’re sleeping in a Louis Vuitton body bag
|
| Body bag…
|
| To be ourselves, we have to destroy ourselves
|
| To be ourselves, we have to destroy ourselves
|
| Pretend I love you for another year
|
| Starve myself so I’ll fucking disappear
|
| Your red-dipped fingers look like strawberries
|
| But these gashes look like self-injuries
|
| Slit your throat and zip you up
|
| I won’t fuck up your pretty make-up
|
| Tell your friends, try not to brag
|
| You’re sleeping in a Louis Vuitton body bag
|
| Body bag…
|
| Depression — my new obsession
|
| Home sweet home
|
| Self-mutilation
|
| Like a sick art show
|
| Slit your throat and zip you up
|
| I won’t fuck up your pretty make-up
|
| Tell your friends, try not to brag
|
| To be ourselves, we have to destroy ourselves
|
| You’re sleeping in a Louis Vuitton body bag
|
| Body bag…
|
| I love you too |