Stop pretending that you're better, you're as guilty as all the rest.
You're planning shelter from this division, a ruined cities aftermath.
Some people call it tragedy, I call it moving on.
I never asked for you to care, I never wanted the things you've got.

And now you're praying for your rapture,
as your ego begins to crave the attention of cowards.
You will be there, dancing on my grave.

It's so pathetic you care so much, about what other people think.
Practice all your lies in the mirror, for every possible line you face.
So when you push me down the well, will you even call for help?
You'll tell everyone you know, you tried to rescue me yourself.

And now you're praying for your rapture,
as your ego begins to crave the attention of cowards.
You will be there, dancing on my grave.

You disgust yourself, you believe in nothing.
You'll deny yourself, every happy ending.

It's in your head you'll discover. You're not as consequential as the rest.
In your hand you'll recover, a notice of the truth.
You failed me.