Sometimes I don’t want to try. I’d rather fuck up. I don’t want yours. I want mine. I’ve only got one. I’m not dumb. I’m figuring out my life. Let it cut. The failures are worth the fight. We are nothing like them. I’ve got some friends who want to die, but, really, they’re dead. They snuffed their hearts and lost their minds for banks and courts. And we grew guts and gnawed on the roar of life. We got young and, baby, we did it right. We are nothing like them.
I write a lot. It’s mostly lies. I fall in love to pass the time. I never fit. I never tried. I need the struggle to feel alive. All I want are records on my stereo. I’m better off, baby, when I’m all alone. That’s a lie. Dirty cigarettes and a dirty soul. Tell me I’m enough. I’m dying to know what it’s like. The sound is fucked, but I don’t mind. It’s wrong enough to feel alright. I think a lot. Like, all the time. I get in trouble when things get quiet. All I want are records on my stereo. I’m better off, baby, when I’m all alone. That’s a lie. Dirty cigarettes and a dirty soul. Tell me I’m enough. I’m dying to know what it’s like.
And you told me that you loved me I swallowed every drop down And you told me how it felt Like being gagged and bound And you told me you were leaving On the last train out And you told me, “Go to hell.”
Well, let me tell you, beautiful, I’ve been there Believe me when I say I’m not afraid Of destruction, sorrow, fear, or regret I heard the devil call me by my name