Man takes me back to my high school days
DIY with 515 pills turning into a hypochondriac
fake handfuls of complements
learning how to hate from my mother
if you want to know what kind of hell
I crawled out of you'd die from corruption
old tooth, fake flesh and smile covering yours
wish she just listened
but I'd have better luck
puncturing my wrists
with what willpower I'll
need to get over you, because
oh baby I'm a handful
I sucker punched all association
with the old self
but deep down I know it's not enough
stuff it all down, amontillado
spitting in the face of all montague
wish I could spill enough wine-truth
bloated with all the pus of blame
but this is exactly why you tear me anew
I'm only talking about me
because that's all I ever do
one mistake after another
so I force my feet to move, I'll get over you
one handful at a time
