Spend the year inside to think about my life, instead I spend the year inside to avoid living mine. I'm selfish when I write these songs I don't like, until I end up back in bed trying to be noticed again.
But you won't know. You won't ever hear this.
Spend the year inside to think about my life, instead avoid living mine. I played the victim but got caught up in my story, you were made of loss, made for discomfort. And I was made of my father's sin, to find no solace in aging skin.
You left me to hospital beds and finding solace in \"You'll be okay, eventually.\"
But I am ugly as I feel. I am ugly as I am worth. You are still above me.