Everyone always asks, how'd he do it?
A rope, a gun, a knife?
I always give them the same answer
His true cause of death was life

I loved you the moment we met
Your imperfections made me forget
About my glaring flaws that you never saw
And still have chose not to see yet

Last I night I slept on your ceiling
It was the most ghastly feeling
to be looking down and watch you roll around with some other human being
Now when I'm in my own bed
I look up and see you instead
But I know you'd never sleep on my ceiling

The sky lets off steam
Fireworks fill the air
They light up my corner
It's really not fair
Cuz I like to hide
Especially what's inside
But a summertime thunderstorm
Exposes all lies