How the fuck are we supposed to know when I'm a monster, the way you refuse to die?
How the fuck are we supposed to know if we're in love or if we're in pain?
Im a tightrope walker. I can't find my circus and I'm damaged beyond repair.
You're just a coffin of a girl I knew, and I'm buried in you.
You never said I'll end up like this. You never said I'll end up like this.
Sometimes I dream I'm an exterminating angel. A traveling executioner from heaven sent to give you the prettiest death.
I know, call the grave and make our reservations. You never said I'll end up like this. You never said I'll end up like this. You never said I'll end up like this. You never said I'll end up like this.
Are we in love or are we in pain? How the fuck are we supposed to know when I'm a monster, the way you refuse to die?
How the fuck are we supposed to know if we're in love or if we're in pain. Why is my wound a front door to you? Am I my own shadow?