In the end what's left
Won't be your feathered hair or
If what it boils down to / Is that "you're
Hate comes in whispers, not angry yells.
Creeping through your
Quit posing like you're rebellious / You boring pieces of
It's all so ironic the things that you think
You preface
Try to wash it all away
You can't remove the
I can't see past your slick veneers.
Your empty eyes,
You are who you fuck, or so I am told
I used to believe
That you and me
Were gonna shimmer
Like our
Wrap your arms around me.
I'm fucking freezing, and I just
Celluloid heroes are a fucking fraud
Built up legends to
The only thing worse
Than losing the one thing that you
Thank god we've got heroes like you,
who bravely stride forward
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