You're all the f**ing same. Worthless, And waiting for a savior that was there all along. You're all the same poison. With perfect lives and cruel intentions. A trail of blood. You've f**ing built the skin. Give the paper something to talk about. Give the readers something to talk about. Saylor Lake's got a mean howl. Careful at night, better watch out! Decorate her funeral with open wounds, When the sorrow pours like water, Down a cold and restless body. Slowly flows a river; In the river we will gaze. Up the stairs, down the hall, Into the bed she crawled. To place a panicked phone call, But she was struck in the head with a blunt object. When everything's gone, it's quiet and we want nothing more.