So I take it you've heard of the dying boy.
Well I bet you probably guessed that dying boy was me.
I'm a mutilated cry for help suffering from a burn of 3rd degree.
The bad dreams, they come and go as they please
But the nightmares, never go away
I've spent more time trying to decipher what is real from what is fake....
Feeling sad...
Feeling sad...
Feeling sad...
So sad.
The friends I want I don't have
And the friends I have I don't want
It's a lose-lose situation just like riding a bike, with no wheels
Got me feeling mad...
Feeling mad...
Feeling mad...
So mad...
Nothing ever changes, everything still remains the same
I cut the wrist of my best friend
I wanted to see what colour
He would bleed
Spent days and nights searching for the culprit that was me.
I gave the other ones my best
While the ones that truly care, I tend to neglect
So the me your use to seeing is most likely not the me they know...
And I'm feeling bad...
Feeling bad...
Feeling bad...
So bad.
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