I started out as someone whole
But now I am tattered
I have blood on my hands from those of hearts that I have crushed
And now I just get high to forget
I swallow my regret in a little white tablet
And paint myself to death,
Am I nothing less?
I broke down everything
To build walls of lies and I thought I was okay
But in reality I had killed myself,
Only to be forged in wars I started
And in death I was tortured just as well
I am sort of in a prison
Cell
Cell
Cellulite leaves me as my skin creates new skin,
A skin that one day you have never touched
But I wish my skin would stay
Because then
You might be alive today
I may not have killed you in a fire of deciding my own heart
A one who made a good heart rot
And I am the disease
And she is the cure
I hate what I have made you become
