Every night I run red lights,
and not because I'm in a rush,
something about the possibility of death,
I just love it.
And sometimes I wish metal would crash,
roll me over and take my life,
icy cold heart in my chest,
just won't stop beating.
And my brains would spew out of my mouth,
like applesauce out of a baby's,
like these words I'm throwing up onto paper,
the words I can't say out loud.