Til death do us; Part 2.

Stand still and take the punches. Your parents won't know what hit them till you're gone. Sell the radio and beg on busses. How can something so good be so wrong?

The track marks are signs of regret. Yet you won't trade those nights for anything in the world. We stand on porches and wait for the sun set. For tonight, we rule the streets my girl.

So thank God again for falling into this pit of vice. Your perfect paradise, that swallowed every single dream you've dreamt since you were 12 years old. You're a plastic piece of gold. So hollow.

Question everything but don't believe a word they say. They fill your head with lies. No one in history will relive today. Watch as the story book ending dies.

The years fly by while the hours stay for dinner. Nothing ever works out like you hoped it would have. I find all my answers through the eyes of a sinner. But what doesn't kill you, certainly should have.

So let's thank God again for falling into this pit of vice. Your perfect paradise, that swallowed every single dream you've dreamt since you were 12 years old. You're a plastic piece of gold. Of sorrow.