Now that it's done.
Now that it's all gone wrong.
Now that it's all gone so horribly well.
I'm writing you will;
To my father black and blue,
I leave a blood stained mattress,
Lifeless handshakes.
To my mother with her head to the wall,
Yeah I tried for you,
Failed to do the simplest things,
That somehow mean the most.
Yes it's those little things,
That fuck me up the most.
Oh, in a way, it's funny.
In a way, it's filthy.
Yeah it's funny how,
It kills me so.
Can't let go.
You wont remember my name,
Six short months from now.
They'll call me insane.
If only we'd dare,
To light the torches and sharpen the pikes,
To bring an axe to the public square,
To pick the branches bare.
To the doctors who kill,
I leave judgments that stink.
And to the boys bleeding out on the sidewalk,
Yeah I promise you,
I speak the truth thats new to you.
Oh no, I promise you you're not the only ones.
Oh in a way its funny.
In a way its filthy.
Yeah its funny how,
It kills me so.
Can't let go.
You wont remember my name,
Six short months from now.
They'll call me insane.
I'm thinking of us both now.
I'm thinking of us both now.
I'm thinking of us both now.
I'm thinking of us both now.
You are all hereby formally indicted.
You are all hereby formally indicted.
You are all hereby formally indicted.
I'm thinking of us both now.
