These things we go through,
It's part of what we are.
It's part of humanity, but oh,
The things humanity drives us to.
When you've been with someone
Right after the other,
How can you get used to being alone?
How can you stand being betrayed?
Pretending like you don't care.
You even try to hide it from yourself.
You lie to yourself.
Is it true? Am I making this truth up?
Maybe, that's just what humanity does.
Everyone knows. Everyone talks.
You act like you're deaf to them.
Deaf to what they say about you.
But the only person you can't ignore,
Is him.
The one who broke you.
Who broke you into pieces.
Pieces you can't put together anymore.
This puzzle won't fit, it's become all wrong.
Some pieces are ruined, and some have just gone.
He said he loved you.
And you believed him.
And you believed them all.
Lies.
He said you could trust him.
He said he wouldn't go to her.
Lies.
And when we learn the truth,
We walk away,
Broken.
We walk and then we run,
Shattered.
We run until we give away.
Give away to nothingness.
And that's when we really break away,
From humanity.
When we hurt we can't show.
Humanity drives us to break inside.
We break, we don't think.
We burn paper,
Wrapped around a cigarette.
Burn and inhale.
Inhale and exhale.
But that's what we've been driven to.
The alchohol that binds our tears.
Lifts us up high.
Lifts us up high.
Lifts me up high.
Flying away from my sanity.
Where we can laugh about anything,
And forget him for just some time.
And when the alchohol is gone,
When we begin to sober up.
That's when we reach for the lighter,
The pack of cigarettes.
It goes between your lips.
The lips that kissed the traitor.
Click, the lighter goes.
The flame touches the cigarette.
Burn and inhale.
Inhale and exhale.
We know no one else cares about how we feel.
Especially not him.
But we need, we want, we have to vent our feelings somehow.
So what do we do?
The scissors sit gleaming on the table.
The razorblade next to the sink.
The knife in the kitchen drawer.
The paper cutter in the pencil case of pink.
We reach out, we need to express our pain.
Our anger, our hatred, our broken dreams.
Broken dreams.
Broken skin.
The skin becomes broken,
A thin red line shows.
It becomes darker,
It leaks.
It streams.
The blood leaking from our wrists.
Like the tears leaking from our eyes.
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