nothing’s gonna be kept sacred if you give it up, then you should fake it then somebody wins
and you shimmer, you got thinner, or it might just be the cloth well, I’d love to be a butterfly, but I was just a moth
i eat away at all your clothing i hang out on your wall self-loathing i won’t bother you
there’s a serious request at hand, you’re trying not to laugh and it seems like good things go away, but bad times never pass
everything grows then goes out the window lay me to rest right under your pillow you don’t have to hold a service, everything is perfect as is what’s left to say? doesn't matter anyway