Fake Fake Fake
Happiness is just a cover up for the dead cell that you are
That I am

You've twisted me inside out and now I lay worn and open
for frustration and stupidity to sink into every pore that was asking for relief

I've hit bottom, but only now is when everything makes sense
Here it is gray solid and rough
Lead to paper is only thin enough,
But in this head lies endless pain that will never be still

I will, 'til then not sleep
I will, 'til then not sleep

Nothing rhymes
Nothing will sound right
Cause this is, the last fucking time

My disgrace is my subtlety
You will not hear my cries, because the blunt plea is the easy way out

But one day this outline, this frame will collapse
leaving cold sore disturbance unlocked and erratic
And only a few will affix each word of every song

I will, 'til then not sleep
I will, 'til then not sleep