i can’t tell you what it really is
i can only tell you what it feels like
and right now it’s a still night in my wind pipe
i can’t breathe but i still fight while i can fight
as long as the wrong feels right it’s like i’m in flight
high off the law, drunk from my hate,
it’s like i’m huffing paint and i love it the more i suffer, i suffocate
and right before i’m about to drown, she resuscitates me
she fucking hates me and i love it.
wait! where y