The Obituaries

We stumble and stare at the carnival lights that lit up new york city,
From the rooftop in brooklyn that was covered in bad graffiti.
And then i let a thousand splinters pierce right through my spoiled liver,
Whatever that was left of it.

'cuz i cursed my lonely memory with picture-perfect imagery.
Maybe i'm not dying i'm just living in decaying cities,
But i'm still healthy, i'm still fine,
I'll be spending all my time readin' the obituaries.

But i will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.

Cause i was the shadow of the waxwing slain
I felt the false azure from windowpanes
I am just freaking out, yeah i'll be fine.

But i will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.