Whenever it's over
the life in you stops
I pull out the stars
and let them just rot
You willingly sit on the steps of the dead
While I hastily regain all that was said
That you could never love me
That you never did
You were just being nice
You knew I still had to live.
I honestly don't think I'm alive
I'm unconscious inside
from the way I would whore
all my valuable skies.
If he found me worthy
of all that you found dirty
maybe this time wouldn't be
just as hard
He knows that I'm here
but he doesn't really care
I guess that's the story
of my death.