I can count these lost days on my fingers pressed down underneath where our warmth lingers
Idle but my blood races behind these faces
I live blissful while deep in denial
Actin on your hit parade
Busy thoughts on quiet days
Dropping off your apple tree
Shouldn't mean that much to me
Your love is hating
And your still waiting
To blink your eyes when you wake up and I'll be gone
You strike a murderous posture with lolitas fingers
You got a scary interior with shiny demanor
You got everything that has ever warped me
You everthing that's needed to k** me