Holy! Holy! All the days
Hunting to preserve our youthful haze
We need a fix, but we can’t be fixed
Our medicine does not exist
I can see it, in your eyes, on your skin, in how you dance
I can see it, you don’t look, we never touch
Stranger! Stranger! To this life
Whatever left me has turned off the lights
Half-witted for trying to fight
We’re not alright
And your still too fucking polite
I’m feeling sick to my stomach, I’m feeling sick in my bones
You don’t like the sound of that tone
Have we not screamed enough to catch your eyes?
We’re not alone
When I hate, when I hate, when I hate myself for the burden that I’ll always be
Second best by your definitions
Well, I won’t rest under those conditions
It’s gonna be okay - they said with belittling grace
But I need some space
It’s gonna be okay - I wish I could trust your straight face
But I need some space
