We stumble and stare at the carnival lights that lit up New York City, From the rooftop in Brooklyn that was covered in bad graffiti. And then I let a thousand splinters pierce right through my spoiled liver, Whatever that was left of it.
'Cuz I cursed my lonely memory with picture-perfect imagery. Maybe I'm not dying I'm just living in decaying cities, But I'm still healthy, I'm still fine, I'll be spending all my time readin' the obituaries.
But I will fuck this up, I fucking know it. I will fuck this up, I fucking know it. I will fuck this up, I fucking know it. I will fuck this up, I fucking know it.
Cause I was the shadow of the waxwing slain I felt the false azure from windowpanes I am just freaking out, yeah I'll be fine.
But I will fuck this up, I fucking know it. I will fuck this up, I fucking know it. I will fuck this up, I fucking know it. I will fuck this up, I fucking know it.