Broken knuckles bleeding Foreheads
Shirt collars I’m still grabbing
Accusations rolling eyes
Reasons I’m still pulling my hair out
Those f*****g cords stretched through broken glass
never summed up so much.
All of this to be raped of self esteem
and expose my f*****g self
What could possibly go right?
What could possibly go f*****g right?
To every toothless f*****g grin (You are the few)
I’m sick of saying this is just not worth this s**t.
For every kid that’s waiting to die
(You know our names) I’m sick of saying
This is just not worth this s**t.
No point in thinking this will all work out
So many days I could do with out
but the point of it all is to never look back
so I live for today and die by the night
these veins are burning f*****g red
and this is when I can’t turn back.
What could possibly go right