Hearing the bus drive
Away
Whisper of this earth
God, how I hate the sound

Too many collect calls and not enough
Writing on the wall
I called aloud so often only to see
My words cut through them like knives

Blood tastes so sweet
Upon my fingers
Blood tastes so sweet
Upon my fingers

The wounds have healed
But the scars still remain
I try myself and kill myself

Flowers looked lovely in your eyes
But all mine died yesterday
We always forget to water them
The floor is so cold, so fucking cold

(It never felt so right as the day when I couldn't recollect)
I don't remember it that way
(I can't remember when sunshine didn't shine with regret)