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lyrics

W H E N Y O U T R I P

You've been boiling. Just about to reach the rim and spill out.
Fires burning. Never thought you'd be the one to take away. A cliché.
Bored enough to fuck whatever's in your way.
By the way, hope it hurts so much you cry and cry and cry.

When you trip, kill the flavor with another
when you're crawling back to Jesus on your knees.
One more chance, never live another day
or lift another one to save you from disease.

You've been leeching. But you’ve grown on me enough to let you.
Now I’m blinded from the poison you’ve been pumping through my veins.
You’re in pain. Sure, that justifies that you give me the same.
If I complain, then you’ll throw a fucking fit and cry and cry.

When you trip, kill the flavor with another
when you're crawling back to Jesus on your knees.
One more chance, never live another day
or lift another one to save you from disease.

Same old song. You should know that I’ll keep pushing.
All or nothing. Should I take the time to help when you’re in need?
I believe you’re the one that helped me stand on my own feet.
But you’ll see that when I’m pushed I’ll just go further and further away.

When you trip, kill the flavor with another
when you're crawling back to Jesus on your knees.
One more chance, never live another day
or lift another one to save you from disease.

When you fall, like a stupid motherfucker
for another piece to fill the fucking hole.
Well point is this: maybe next time learn to suffer
‘cause you can’t always get what you want without taking away.

No you can’t always get what you want without taking away.
No you can’t always get what you want without taking away.
No you can’t always get what you want without taking away.
No you can’t always get what you want without taking away.

No you can’t always get what you want.

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from As Written by a Member of the Dying Middle Class, released July 2, 2009

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The Ugly Facade

We live our lives in boxes, with little glowing screens. We fill our blood with toxins, so we can deal with things. And sometimes, more than often, the bitter masks the taste. The fruitless failed reflection: what if it's all a waste?

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