It used to be your pleasure I soaked up with the tissues
Now they can't seem to get enough of my tears
Sometimes I let them be when I lay down to sleep
They roll down my face as if in a race and I'll bet on which one first reaches my ears
It's the only thing I haven't been wrong about in years

And I was used to it
The unsteady moods and sudden attacks
I'd changed into someone who couldn't be hurt
Stopped trying to fix his errors by addressing them first
I'd just never expected to be needing that back
Good I kept all my baggage and never unpacked

It's not gonna last forever
I can't seem to decide if it fills me with delight or terror
Do I long for a sickness to shorten the days I've left to live?
An excuse so I'm not at fault and there's nothing to forgive?

It's not gonna last forever
I could cry for days on end
Not because I bleed and hurt
But because I'm so sick to pretend
That I don't

You loved to have the artsy girl
As if I were a statue to twirl
'These are her paintings and she reads so **** much'
I remember how your praise made me shy away and blush

I remember you saying I grew kind of lame
Looking for a reason I'd rather stay home and finding only my books to blame
But books were not only to fill a void the most beloved on my list of things to enjoy
And I'd rather be addicted to pages where lovers and enemies coexisted
Than watch you cancel out the darkness with any random kind of liquid

And I'd rather be the paper girl
Than to down yet another drink that in my hand I swirl
Losing its sparkle just as fast as I lose my mind
I wish I'd stayed home and simply read through the night

I am jealous
And contagious
And sometimes anger
Gets the best of me
I ruin things
Outgrow my friends
I ask myself
Too many questions
Doubt crawls along my side
Got drawers where my demons hide
And enough of them

When I glance at my phone there's news after news
I swipe them all away unless there's some it from you
Then I put away the paintbrush
Lay the book down next to the pile to be read
I dearly love to paint or read but I'd still rather talk to you instead

I am a beast
Contributing to the earth's pollution
Intoxicating soil and financing the royal
If I could gamble to be any other living thing
I'd take a spin on the wheel and hope for death to be my win

A summernight in Mid-July
We'd talk and talk until my skin
Was covered in mosquito bites
I didn't mind, I let it sting

Those bites they kept me company
In the days you weren't around
I itched and scratched so angrily
They could stay forever on my account.

I guess some need the tragedy
Rambling mind and trembling feet
Falling for every fallen leaf
Desperate to keep winter out of reach

Because at least in summertime, everyone else seems happy.

It makes you cry and leaves you sad
But you like the salt and you love the mad

I am a beautiful creature
inside a body so limited
so rotten in character
and of a species so evil
a person so nice
stuck in a world left to die