And now we fit in a drinking glass
Our lives the size of an eyelash
But haven't we always been low-class?
It hurts
So, f*ck being brave, when every mouth is an early grave
The man on the intercom says, a family is lost somewhere in the classroom
A ghost moves into his tiny chest
Our love has no alphabet
But haven't we always been helpless?
It hurts
So, f*ck being brave, when every rib is chanting his mother's name