It's too late.
It's too late.
I talked.
I told them everything.
I confessed my long list of crimes to all the subway
suicides.
Not absolved but laid bare.
And the secret double lives of all the rat race patriarchs go on and on - and let them die
there.
I've looked through all the windows.
I've gone through all the drawers.
More empty now than ever before.
We're going
down to hell together or not at all.
And the dead hollow shells of consumer investments
That promised completion but just left more
holes to fill -
Let 'em kill.
I've got one for the fatalists that like to f**k the mannequins.
So who's the deviant in this
success story?
It's too late.
It's too late.
It's too late.
I confessed - sold you out.
