Cause it’s all just paper in the end,
Were all just stuck here playing pretend.
Some of us acting like we god,
While other have never even heard of a ****** iPod.
We pray to that god at the end of the day,
And then curse his name if things don’t go our way.
We’re corrupted and ****** up, dishin’ out blame,
Wishing for superman, left with some ******* named...
Who gives a **** with his name if they’re all just fuckboys ,
Woman pick yourself up you’re repressed by the man, part of his ploy!
And were all stuck here playing pretend,
Might as well make you name a story for the end.

Your kisses used to taste like love,
But now kisses taste a lot like leaving.
When the past calls,
I will not answer.
I cannot let myself be toiled with delusions of grandeur,  
Sighing at a wilted garden once called Eden.
This garden, being the same one we built together,
Belonging to us both,
Has long been abandoned.  
I will let the wilting red roses die,
Just like the memory of the way your kisses taste,
Just like the way you let our love die.