I've got a thing for self destruction
since I found out my dysfunctions,
werw what made us part,
you and me.
I've got thing for major crises.
Total fuck ups are
what my life is all about
since I made you leave.
It's in my blood, being mean...
Yea, please, yes please.
Sure I'll have it
More please, more please.
It's a habit that I've worked out
to sort things out.
Burning, burning I deserve it.
I deserve to face the fire
pure shite and clean,
the opposite of me.
It's in my blood, being mean...
Wondering around further down
asking why I wasn't happy
while we still had it.
It's a tragic habit that I have,
that I happen to have.
