Now this gravel in our voices, glass is shattered from the fight.
 In this tug of war, you’ll always win, even when I’m right.
 Cause you feed me fables from your hand,

 With violet words and empty threats and it’s sick that all these battle 

are what keeps me satisfied. So maybe I’m a masochist

 I try to run but I don’t wanna ever leave.
 Til the walls are goin’ up in smoke

 with all our memories.