Iím sick of faking a smile.
Iím sick of making it seem worthwhile.
Iíd like to show you the scars,
And show you how itís gone too far.
I wish you could
smell the rancid scent, I smell.
Taste the acid taste I taste.
I want you to feel that crick in my neck
That reminds me everythingís gone to hell.
I want you to know how I feel,
That this is how I get,
Whenever I feel myself.