Here in line where stupid shit collides

With dying shooting stars

All we got to show what we really are

Is the same kind of scars

And looking at you, all I see is

You're waiting for something



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You're a murder mile

You idiot kid

Your arm's got a death in it



Mmm...



If you're choking up, take this paper cup

But there's a price that you'll pay

For trying hard to become whatever they are

And saying whatever they say

So help yourself to this bitter pill

Or somebody else will



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You were murdered by

You idiot kid

Your arm's got a death in it



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