Street To Nowhere - Dead Cliché lyrics

I strayed from the kitchen that's where we kept the knives that could slice the tense air from clenched fists I wasn't partial to pain but I fled home everyday, staring at the veins through the skin on my wrist And in the morning when my throat burned like cuts and scrapes and salty dry eyes refused to wake the only warmth were cold hands of a mother she'd say "it'll be ok" I'd be no more than A Dead Clich, A Dead Clich A Dead Clich with nothing to say farewell notes are so pa** So shoot me in a gallery, we'll call it art you can critique the blood stain on the floor why let my d**h go to waste, if I'm dying anyway I might as well have something to die for Cause I'm breathing in dead air, I'm tugging at dead skin I know that every road I walk is a dead end And the papers would agree it's the only fame I'll see Cause all the greatest artists are insane. Or Dead. I made a heart out of tape and wire I painted it the color of crying eyes I wore it on my sleeve for the vultures to see screamed you're born you learn you work decay and die