• I have grown tired of this planet
    Let go of my arm now, God dammit
    Don't you dare make a scene when I go
    You want a show? Just find us a crowd
    I'll make you scream our secrets out loud
    We might as well let everyone know
    I've wrapped all my wounds and I'm walking out
    We've run out of things to talk about
    I'll quit while my tolerance is low