I don't really want no weed I don't really want no friends I don't really need no whip I don't really want no ends
I don't really want no bitch I don't really want no top I don't really want no hope I don't really want no hoe I don't really want no life I don't even really wanna die I don't really wanna do shit bitch world got me down and I wanna just quit
I don't wanna play no shows I don't wanna make no clothes I don't wanna write you a verse I don't wanna talk no more
Sever the limbs off my torso and burn what remains Shouts out to Coheed I would not be alive if I gave in to one of the times that I wanted to be 6 feet deep beneath all of our feet I've given up on giving up I found a reason to be in hopes you will deify me I'm sick of writing I would rather be in Andromeda that way it would take a billion years for you to find me
Candle wax burns on her back in the shape of a pentacle