Razorblades & fingertips
why do we always insist on this?
A touch of pain for a bit of bliss
oh how I love your metallic kiss.
They say we're all sick in the head;
not alive but not quite dead.
We spend all day stuck in our beds
too scared to move a step ahead.
It didn't used to be this way;
too tired to sleep except in the day
We're standing still to run away.
Tell me again how it'll be okay
Tell me again how I'll be okay.
Razorblades & Fingertips
why does it always end up like this
and all that remains are your lipstick stains
and a note that fails to explain.