i guess it's selfish to ask why i'm so alone ,
to ask for which sins i must atone ,
to ask why your fingers dig so deep in my scars that you break bone ,
to ask why my heart is black coal , or maybe even stone ,
to ask why i've begin to wish my brains were blown ,
to ask how this cemetery was once my home ,
to ask how my imperfections star in this cinema which is shown ,
but i guess it's selfish to ask why i'm so alone
