Sunday, March 14, 2010


I kill myself in small amounts
in each relationship it's not about love.
Just another funeral and just another girl left in tears.

And I'm waiting, with the sound turned off
I'm waiting, like a glass balloon
I'm fading into the void and then
I'm gone, I'm gone, I'm gone...

They said that hell's not hot.
They said that hell's not hot.

I gave my soul to someone else;
she must have known that it was already sold.
It was never about her, it was about the hurt.


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