It's a Metaphor, Fool.

Well now, if you're looking for the right kind of story
i'll be sure to cut your hopes off at the end.
i've got the sweet taste of contemptment on my lips,
"you've gotta sometimes break to meet the bend."
i could kill you with my indifference, not my sorrow
and leave your lips a dull shade of bone dry.
the gentleman has left the building down, get the ammunition
because things are about to get ugly, and one of us is about to cry.
keep thinking everyone's got it out for you, baby
your phobias are just another part of another sick trend.
i blew out my faith the minute you blew out the candles;
there is no raw emotions when the secrets start to make friends.
you pump dependancy through your body like insulin
making the worst out of the situation that falls into place.
because, even if i've got the nice shoes and the attitude
doesn't make it to where i put to par this pretty face.
give me one damn good reason to sit up straight,
your give a damn busted when i broke open the door
making this honesty like iodine poured into an open would.
crying out for help, but you never take the time to listen anymore.
they say the hardest part of rollerblading is telling your parents you're gay,
but i promise that's only a metaphor, fool.
those being something you've always lived by and respected;
all the metaphors and philosophy have given up on you.
you make it a little hard to believe there's a thing called sincerity.
so i'll watch you walk past without a fight or word.
and honey, before you even thinking of saying commercial wh ore here,
maybe you should stop and take the time to analyze what you've heard.
i could kill you with my indifference, not my sorrow
and leave your lips a dull shade of bone dry.
the gentleman has left the building down, get the ammunition
because things are about to get ugly, and one of us is about to cry.