I'm never gonna understand this.
Then again, I'm never gonna understand you.
Your life is falling, and you can't stoop below yourself
to pick up the pieces or even fetch the glue.
When your little shattered porcelain life is beyond duct tape, you have a problem.
In this red blaze of blood, I've decided to choose the bitch route.
I can't play fucking martyr my whole life (I think I do practicing heretic much better)
and life would be lovely if only if only
this house was all empty like a museum of forgotten strife.
Life would be lovely if only if only
My days are great until I step through that doorway.
You can't deem to decree a recall of the fall,
You don't dare criticise this unholy hall.
Your egos take up all the oxygen-
You should really look into penicillin
or perhaps poison will stunt this growth
that toxifies everything you touch, everyone you know.
You think you act so perfectly? You're a fucking little girl in dungarees
a little bitch who can't please and is never pleased
a Mean Girl jock who wouldn't know life
if it came in through the window and set you alight
"i am not prepared for you
let me retrieve the scalpel"
Rip me, strip me of my rank and name, leave me in rags with throbbing memories of my dam's labor pain
Abuse this muse if you so care
because karma isn't going anywhere
the truth isn't going anywhere
Are you afraid that's what I'll say?
I'm acting like an ass? At least I've got an excuse-
what's the explanation for you,
two tamed household shrew
lying in a cage
with nothing but a despot's rage
to split between the two of you?