the orchastra is waiting.
me and my phantoms are substained.
please don't ever go away.
just stay.
i'm not too great, i know.
i said things i didn't mean, but don't go.
some things weren't lies.
don't deny my tries,
to get things back to normal.
and set things straight.
i'm definitly not an angel.
definitly not a saint.
my wings are ripped.
my halo is bent.
did you ever get those letters i sent?
i can't figure out what those words meant.
i'll find a song that defines what you did to me.
and sing it outside your window until i'm 63.
try to make me better.
write me beautiful love letters.
then watch me break down and cry.
tell me two words and give me a lie.
i'll believe you and do the things you want me to.
i'm definitly not an angel.
definitly not a saint.
my wings are ripped.
my halo is bent.
did you ever get those letters i sent?
i can't figure out what those words meant.
but eventually it'll get to be too much to take.
god fucking damnit, i can't "just wait".
in time, i'll break and find someone else to be bored with.
i'll write your love on my arms with a knife tip.