Let me pick through the empty dirt And the rotten wood The shop you work, cause I'm interested In a carpenter, so elegant at placing splinters Right beneath my nails Where I cannot dig them out The same briars from your wrists Are the tinder in my father's house And I know, I know I know, I know oh I know myself better than anybody else You're gonna run, you're gonna run When you find out who I am I know I'm a pile of filthy wreckage You will wish you'd never touch You're gonna run When you find out who I am You're gonna run You're gonna run It's alright, everybody does You're gonna run It's alright, everybody does You're gonna run It's alright, everybody does