say, did you run through me or was it with me?
it's all the same. 6 of one, half a dozen, holding hands or cleching fists. both are better than what we have here, what we hold dear. [don't cry for the weakend.] this is the end of us. did you piss out this flame, or was it me?
[why let you feel me?feel you?]
i feel like burning this place down to the fucking ground. this home is broken and i'm standing in the remains of what little remains.
