She's making excuses for crying again, and it's not the first lie she's made
All she did was take, and take, and all I ever dive was give and forgave
I twisted in grotesque manners, to satisfy her needs
And I ripped my pulsating lungs out, so that she could breathe
And I bent myself back wards, in a million different ways
Then she has something to tell me, and it's I'm sorry that she always says
I keep trying and trying to cope with those empty words
But it isn't the last time hearing them, and certainly not the first
And it's such a meaningless effort to try and perceive
How with those nicotine filled lungs, she attempts to breathe
With her body so tiny and feeble, her bones brittle; so weak
I could break her down so easily, with the very words I speak
I could break her into shambles, or in pieces if I wish
But something about her starvation for perfection kept me from doing this.
And the truth is I'm quite curious, so curious to see
What perfection could give her, as opposed to me
I want to see what she will become
What will happen when she's done injecting, and her body goes numb.
I want to see how far she will go, I want to see if it's worth it
Before she tries to stop herself, before she tries to quit.
I want to see her addiction, turn into a monstrosity
And I want to see her tangled in her web of atrocity
I want to see if what she's aiming for, is what she wants to be
But I also want her to look in the mirror and hate what she sees
Dear Miss Vanity, today I saw you, and you looked horrendous, by the way
Because I watched you lie on the floor, and fade yourself away.