I’m running out of innocence
To serve as self condolences
On terrifying sleepless nights
That hang me up like suicide
Where are your bitter words?
Where is my concentration?
What leads us to this underworld
In solemn resignation
Momma, I don’t want to sleep
I kinda like to feel this weak
Let their masochistic side
Seep through me like formaldehyde
Preserving my living corpse
Until you find a pretty hearse
I’m running out of hiding places
Tight and cozy little spaces
To let my anger fester
Free from being pestered
It’s become a powerful acid
Chewed right through my skull
Destruction so classic
I’m swayed by it’s pull
Momma, I’m not gonna sleep
I really love to feel this weak
Let their masochistic music
Turn me into something tragic
Leaving me as just a corpse
Better find a pretty hearse
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