| You got that slow drip pity, a snowed in car
|
| I hear your opinion all the time now
|
| Sitting in a old chair leaning on the bed
|
| Writing dumb comments on an Internet thread
|
| I wanna finish this and wish you much fun
|
| Hope you understand when I tell you I’m done
|
| I’m done
|
| I’m done
|
| Well you serve it on a tray
|
| But you change it every day
|
| And you still don’t seem to know
|
| That I’m not here you to please you
|
| Or beg on my knees
|
| Or be the villian on your show
|
| And I can’t, and I won’t, and I don’t
|
| Even hear you
|
| I said in my head, it’s a loss to be near you
|
| I’m done speaking through a shamed face
|
| I’m done eating up your fake rage
|
| I’m done writing to-do lists
|
| And I’m done with your «better person» bullshit
|
| I’m done
|
| I’m done
|
| You got that slow drip pity, a snowed in car
|
| I hear your opinion all the time now
|
| Sitting in a old chair leaning on the bed
|
| Writing dumb comments on an Internet thread
|
| I wanna finish this and wish you much fun
|
| Hope you understand when I tell you I’m done
|
| I’m done
|
| I’m done
|
| I’m sick of waiting around
|
| To be heard from six feet underground
|
| And I’m sick of your disappointment
|
| Tasting like a bottle full of poison
|
| Done
|
| Done
|
| I’m done |