San Francisco

Walked ten miles to a hole in the ground
 Now the only ghosts I see are pieces of you still reflected in me
 I hope you destroy yourself
 Drive fast into the burning bridge
 And leave me on the side of the road
 But you'll live
 It will be a ritual of remembering
 Hang your family from your living room ceiling fan with your small intestine
 But they'll live and it will be
 A ritual of remembering
 You said no matter how many candles I light in a black mass
 It will never change everything that I still lack
 But I'm still waiting for pieces of your ear in the mail
 And I'm still carving "I am my own god"
 Deeper into my forearm every day
 So what the fuck has changed?
 Yellow paint won't change the world, my little van Gogh
 You deserve so much happiness
 You deserve so much more than this
 ♪
 You deserve so much more than this