Driven conversations, even I can read


Wouldn·t want to fake it, and I·m tired of this dream


Taking medications, in the back of the room


Driven conversations, he died in June.




See the stab wounds in his hands


See him dying in his room


He·s dying in his room


He·s dying in his room


Heading for me, heading this way


He is coming, I don·t care




Wouldn·t want to fake it, well I don·t mind


Giving conversations to a friend of mine


Giving medications, in a lighted room


Wouldn·t want to fake it, I know I should




See the stab wounds in his hands


You killed him, I don·t care


Keep a promise, you would too


Keep a promise, even you


See the silence in his head


He is coming, I don·t care




We·re not gonna make it, well I don·t mind


Wouldn·t want to fake it, but I have this time


Giving conversations, to whom they don·t know


Taking medications till my stomach·s full.




See a famine in his head


See him coming at their heels


He loves you, give him a chance


I don·t love him, I don·t care


See him starving, give her hell


It is over, we don·t care In Hïs Room