There’s nowhere left to run.
What’s someone born to a race of runaways to do
when their legs have been cut from under them?
Victory was never ours, and to have thought it would be
was the start of our downfall.  
This is the world nearing its finish. (galactic reset)
Hand us the knives we’ll slit our own throats, give us the stones and we’ll smash our heads in ourselves.

i. Do not think she cares about you; her heart is a wasteland and love is the rain the land knows it will not get anymore.
ii. Do not think she feels like you do; she will tear you apart in her effort to love.
iii. Do not think her being happy is good; she destroys everything she touches, ruin is more natural to her than joy.
iv. Do not care about her; no matter what emotion she is expressing all she feels is scorn for you.
v. Do not get close to her; she is a flame and whatever good she once possessed has long since burnt to ashes under its heat.

She won''t look you in the eye when she tells you she loves you.
(she doesn’t know what love means)
And her mouth is dry when she hears you say it.
(she knows one can not truly love what they don’t know)

She drank gasoline like water
and had the audacity to be surprised at the flames that caught when she held a match too close.

Look at how she's burning up.
Look at how she's burning out.
Finally. Finally. Finally.

I want to know what it is like
to light my soul on fire,
without getting lost in the flames.
without burning myself out.

They're selling heaven for 15 grams.
They're selling love for our souls.