You can’t carve the cancer out of you, but you can make it hurt, and you can make it worse. How long would it take to claim you on its own? I guess we’ll never know. Let’s find out just how deep these wounds go, while your head shakes left to right “no”, because if there’s anything that you should know I’m sure you’ll find it in your insides. No scratching, no picking, wouldn’t want that to get infected. Spitting, cursing, fighting, fucking, this is why we can’t have nice things. Can’t carve the cancer out, one step forward two steps back, oh my god what have you done? Spitting, cursing, fighting, fucking, this is why we can’t have nice things. Haven’t you had enough? Well if this is the end then call it what it is and have a spine for once. How are you supposed to stay afloat when you’re poking holes in your own logic? I can’t watch this. On your knees now you’re the one who’s tongue-tied, while you stare with your arms at your sides. Finding peace shouldn’t be about tearing yourself apart, but if that’s what you want go ahead here’s a knife cut me off a piece of your heart. And if you’ve got an underwhelming feeling setting in your stomach, that’s not me that’s you, that’s all you. Keep your fucking hands still when you’re shaking off the blood. Enough is enough, now spill your guts for everyone to see.
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