I was happy. I knew what it felt like again. And then it got all torn away. Was it my fault? Maybe. Does it matter? No. Is there anything that can fix it? Maybe a razorblade will.
So several papers later, I'm free to sit tight or do whatever the hell I want until this weekend when I have to start studying for my one and only final. It should be great times. I'm going to miss this place when I go.
Are you saying there's a devil ripping through your head? And it looks like me? You took my hand You ripped my heart Bound my life and bled my dreams So should I be the devil flying through your head? Are you fading? Are you leaving? Are you running with your eyes closed? Are you flying? Are you hiding? Are you talking with your mind closed?