Pull the death out of my gut
Pull the pellets out of me and examine the names that tore me, if you have the grace to worry about seeing your name, you will find the name of a stranger
Be careful of the postmortem, I'm sorry tremors of my hands
born from the post beating tears
from the post script of your disappointment
After I'm dead I'm still sorry that I bothered you  
You look at my heart and dare to wonder why it is as shriveled as my corpse  
You burned the love out with sideways glares frontways sneers I wish you just gave honest backwards smiles