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Why don't you hang these steps upside down, |
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We'll walk backwards and feel the blood drain to our heads |
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While your creeping away why don't we pull the punches back? |
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And perhaps rebuild those severed ties; |
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When I felt you destroyed everything |
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I knew I felt ever so slowly becoming you. |
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Where has my heart gone, and where has my faith gone? |
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And why am |
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I still here, hating every breath you take |
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Where has my heart gone, and where has my faith gone? |
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And why am |
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I still here, hating every breath you take |
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Every step you take, and every move you make? |
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And just wishing that you'd take your fucking last breath toward expiration; |
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I can't even make myself out in the fog, |
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You are the swamp, |
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You are the sand beneath my feet pulling me down. |
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I have no face for your name, your roots never went any further down; |
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I felt them writhe in the cellars of my mind, |
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Rotted through right where they fell, yet here |
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I am. The wasted pulp of what you are. |
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Where has my heart gone, and where has my faith gone? |
|
And why am |
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I still here, hating every breath you take |
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Every step you take, and every move you make? |
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And just wishing that you'd take your fucking last breath toward expiration; |
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But at least if |
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I fall I can say we failed (we failed) together (together) |
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Sure to be the only thing we ever shared 'cause you were never there (never there) |
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And I'm yet to feel like |
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I'm even here. |
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If I sink into the swamp that is misery, |
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At least I know you'll drown with me as well. |
