We stumble and stare at the carnival lights that lit up New York City,
from the rooftop in Brooklyn that was covered in bad graffiti.
And then I let a thousand splinters pierce right thru my spoiled liver,
whatever that was left of it.
'cuz I cursed my lonely memory with picture-perfect imagery.
Maybe I'm not dying im just living in decaying cities,
but I'm still healthy, I'm still fine,
I'll be spending all my time readin' the obituaries.
But I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
'cuz I am the shadow of the wax wing slain.
I felt the false azure from window panes.
I am just freaking out, yeah I'll be fine.
But I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.