Prostrate for god we don't find out
Omitting phrases from your mouth
So you say
I'll be the one to come and save
We're dancing on your little grave
It's your grave
It's getting hard for her
To trust the meaning of their words
So she says
I'll go to hell to make you pay
You're getting on my broken nerves
I've been bursting through the seams for way too long
Algorithms and The System got 'em singing sad songs
Cortisol and adrenaline in my veins
Look internal at their eyes
You'll see their pain
It's my pain
It's getting hard for her
To trust the meaning on their words
So she says
I'll go to hell to make you pay
You're getting on my f*cking nerves
I'm tired
So tired
Of burning pages on streets
It's got me turning in my sleep
No thoughts
No places
I'm looking at their faces
Crying from pictures on their screens
Grasping for any kind of
Pieces breaking down this evening
I think I fell down
No more hills to die on anymore