This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals And I am not afraid to die I’m not afraid to bleed, and fuck, and fight I want the pain of payment What’s left, but a section of pygmy sized cuts - Much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks? Would you be my little cut? Would you be my thousand fucks?
Just look at me, look at me now I’m a fake I’m a fake I’m a fake I’m a fake
I pray, I beg, for anything to hit me in the face And this sickness isn’t me, and I pray to fall from grace The last thing I see is feeling And I’m telling you I’m a fake