You are a tired novelty song in my head baby,
a catchy melody with no real substance.
Yet i danced to your petty rhythm, unaware
of the spinning floor you've worked out.
And it ended with me, face flat on the floor,
unconscious and pathetic.

It was too late for me to realize your schemes,
I was in too deep in your spit and I almost drowned.

My resurfacing wasn't easy at all,
it took all I had to drain down your poetic liquid words,
and the more those words became meaningless,
the more you became pitiful to me.
You will never stop hurting because the world
you live in isn't real.
The people in it aren't really there, what they feel are
just delusions of what you want them to feel for you.
And when they see right through your bones,
they will see nothing.
Just a bottomless pit of nothing.