Weak knees, f** your sympathy. I'll be my own best friend. She prays as the radio plays "I See A Bad Moon Rising.." again. Foretold, she lives on hold. What is she trying to save me from? Blindspot in the adjacent lot, waiting for my time to come. I won't wait in this line. I've got nothing left in me. My weight on your shifting spine. I f** up and you fabricate me. Gray days on paper plates, our vibrations collide.
Arcane, sister's a saint. She sets herself aside. Pitfall, publish, appall, I fall down right in the street. You blow smoke, you sugarcoat, then you take a front row seat. And I think I've had enough. I'm not listening to it. Lay all of your cards on the table. I know that you'd take every bit. I won't wait in this line. Sooner or later it goes awry. And you live your life like a chore and I'm not listening anymore.