The Birth Of Tragedy

The oldest story ever told is the new definition of love

The birth of tragedy, you and me

Let's go!

Do you remember when we met?

You said, "The road to hell is paved with good intent"

and froze my every attempt to make you smile

You showed nothing special, nothing to relate

But still somehow the chemistry between us

could incinerate this place

And every time I build you up, you always dumb it down

Finding flaws in the Apollonian ideal I'm seeking

that has just buried me six feet in the ground

You twist my every act of kindness into everything it's not

These grotesque misshapen motives are now all I've got

I don't have to play the hero or be a martyr for the cause

I'll wear this cloak of villainy that you have fashioned just for me

And become your most feared enemy that you need

that you need to justify the way you're living

the vain gluttonous, Dionysian way you're thinking

and the ultimate irony begins to shine

when I slowly come to realize I was wrong

You played the nice guy all along, even when I wasn't so

I can't believe you've forgiven me, let things be

when my pain becomes yours and you become me

And I become you when I finally see the error of my ways

And I know, I know you know, we are the same

and that's the new definition of sympathy