| Crushing, cheating, changing
|
| Am I deaf or dead? |
| Is this constricting construction
|
| Or just streets with rusty signs
|
| Of something violent coming?
|
| This will hurt you worse than me
|
| I’m weak seven days a week
|
| Don’t run from me, I won’t
|
| Bother counting 1, 2, 3
|
| I don’t know which me that I love
|
| I’ve got no reflection
|
| I don’t know which me that I love
|
| I’ve got no reflection
|
| I can show myself how to make a noose
|
| A gun’s cliche and a razor, too
|
| I’m not a death-trip vacation vacant station
|
| Made of scars and filled with my old wounds
|
| This will hurt you worse than me
|
| I’m weak seven days a week
|
| Don’t run from me, I won’t
|
| Bother counting 1, 2, 3
|
| I don’t know which me that I love
|
| I’ve got no reflection
|
| I don’t know which me that I love
|
| I’ve got no reflection
|
| You, you don’t even want to know
|
| What I’m going to do to you
|
| You don’t even want to know
|
| What I’m going to do to you
|
| I don’t know which me that I love
|
| I’ve got no reflection
|
| I don’t know which me that I love
|
| I’ve got no reflection |