Dear Miss Sympathetic,   even butterfly wings wither away   Someone's got a knife to my back   determined to see inside   angled nails, broken glass   suits you perfect in high-heeled killers      In this flood, we'll be baptized in what could have been   And this flood will be drowning our lungs with apathy      We've inhaled smoke that dried out our lungs   as we set ourselves aflame      Dear Miss Sympathetic,   even butterfly wings wither away      We set ourselves aflame   Now you'll see us burn      Dear Miss Sympathetic,   even butterfly wings wither away      Now you'll see us burn