My most sour moments, somehow
In all their discontent, their anguish
Their lowest of lows, their most pitiful sorrow
They managed to deteriorate and recycle themselves
Reconnect the dots and reinvent their glow
It no longer mattered that they were disfigured, and their trauma still showed
I applauded them beneath tears, between folds of a bloodstained coat
Behind a heavenly angel, in front of a satanic hoax
Leaning out of a window, above a city adored by my dreams
My most sour moments somehow made me proud
They somehow made me beam