Phony Testo

around me, people that come and go.
not sorry they've got their knives to my throat.
the cuts healed, but scars will always show
that i'm breathing, alive to know i'm alone.
it killed me, what she did. and now i am wasted.

faces passing by me, empty like this evening's ghosts.
hiding at the places, from their souls, that death wont know.
all i've got is not what i've asked for.
and on the night he died, i slept in the garage
and i broke all the god damned windows with my fists, just for the hell of it