I walk with my hands in my pockets so you can't see my cracking skin
And I wear my hoodie tight so you can't see the state I'm in
I might cry while out in public because I just want to be seen
And I'll go live up in the mountains, wipe my entire slate clean
So please cover me in roses, toss me down into the dirt
And please upturn all your noses, your disgust, it causes hurt
And please push me off this ledge until I break all of my bones
And please put me on display in a big world that's filled with phones
I can't think straight without a stutter forming on my lips
I can't organize my thoughts when you're with me swinging hips
And I can't focus on the light that's shining down
And I can't forget about the dark that's blinding now
So suck my blood from head to toe then play me the trombone
And I'll suffer silently and laugh and clap for your grand show
I'm wearing platform boots that make me sixty damn feet tall
So you can't help and blame me if I want to trip and fall
Because I got bruises on my brain from all the days that I ignored
All the stress and immaturity and pain that was just stored
In this rotting little adolescent thing I call my head
I plan to visit my own grave on the day I end up dead
And I'll put flowers on the tombstone, let them shrivel up and rot
And they'll talk about me on TV, and they'll say that I just fought
All the battles that faced me head-on, even though I lost
And they'll make a golden coffin, and not worry about the cost
So I solemnly swear not to off myself to these chords
I'll build a city in my brain until my muscles are left sore
I'll live to be eighty years of age, purely out of spite
So tell me, people on the TV, how's that for a fight