If I gave you pretty enough words,
Could you paint a picture of us that works?
An emphasis on function rather than design.
Aren't you tired,
'Cause I will carry you on a broken back,
And blown out knees.
I have been where you are for a while.

Aren't you tired of being weak?
Such rage that you could scream,
All the stars right out of the sky,
And destroy the prettiest starry night.

Every evening that I die, alone,
I exhumed just a little less human,
So much more bitter and cold.
After all these images of pain,
Have cut right through you,
I will kiss every scar,
And weep you are not alone.

Then I'll show you that place in my chest,
Where my heart still tries to beat.

Aren't you tired of being weak?
Such rage that you could scream,
All the stars right out of the sky,
And destroy the prettiest starry night.

Every evening that I die,
Live, love, burn and die.