Days go past as if a blur, the TV drones, wendy williams a visual slur
rockets flash past and celebrities die, i wait for your calls, or at least a good-bye
eatting mounds of my own flesh, slipping distant, press refresh
believing or at least pretending, that I still do, lost in my own hysterical mis-conclusion, not knowing where you are or even who
stalling for salvation, leaving crumbs upon my plate, your loss is my decision, your love my only bait,
and each time that i take it, i lose another shred of me, knowing you'll be in anothers arms as I myself deceive.