Bentron Autobot & Alastair Reid - After All | Текст песни

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• Bentron Autobot & Alastair Reid
• After All

Bentron Autobot:

- so after all-of-the-pain,

the fights and the things that you forced-me-to-say

you stood between friends like a wall-in-the-way

>and you wouldn’t let me drink ‘cause you thought-I-could-change

fuck your hopeful-behaviour, I’ll cut through my throat-with-a-razor

I focus-on-failure, I drink and I smoke-like-a-sailor

so throw care to the wind we both know-we’re-in-danger

we’re both dying of the human-condition

and when we met you said you knew-I-was-different

>but you still tried to change all the things that you didn’t-like

you just couldn’t accept that I was sick-of-life

that’s why I drank till I passed out, got-into-fights

>My liver hurt, coughing blood I was rotting-inside

- I guess the fairytale came-to-an-end

and now you’ll never get the chance to change-me-again



Alastair Reid:

(You’ll never get the chance to change me again)



I’m burning bridges like a war broken soldier of stress

with a tin can cross pinned to my chest

but my medals don’t match up to my scars

I’ve got a thousand tiny paper cuts on my heart



Bentron Autobot:

and if you asked for a reason - then I’d hand you my swollen-heart

and let you cradle my soul as it folds-in-half

just throw what’s left-to-the-wind

>I was dead-to-begin with, it’s etched-in-my-skin

and if you cut my throat, I wouldn’t be-surprised

I just hope that you end up with a decent-guy

- ’ clearly I wasn’t-enough

I’m a tortured soul, with a skull full of monsters-and-drugs

where bleeding is easy and screaming-is-fine

and I wake up alone from a dream-where-you’re-mine

it’s better that we’re kept-apart,

I get dressed-in-the-dark and I drink on a bench-in-the-park

nothing that you say will make this less-painful

my neck hangs from a length of stretched-cable

- there’s a note in my hand I beg you read-it

it says sorry that I couldn’t be the stable guy you needed



Alastair Reid:



I’m burning bridges like a war broken soldier of stress

with a tin can cross pinned to my chest

but my medals don’t match up to my scars

I’ve got a thousand tiny paper cuts on my heart x2

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