I know I'll be in a box by Morning
Atrophy, a trophy of me ten years old
Wrinkled and old, your face is cold
And I'm afraid of you
Her face is bold
Her toes are cold, just like you
Maybe in Five more, we'll set scores and break down
At this rate, we'll debate until my skin is melting
Pass through me like a bullet,
In my rib cage
Bleeding out on your floor
Aged thirteen
Bloody and warm, my shirt is torn
And I blame you
I know you're leaving
Maybe I'll see you, I'll see you, I'll see you
Maybe in Six more, we'll set scores and burn down
At this rate, we'll debate until my skin is melting
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