You're growing colder by the day.
You seem to feed off my mistakes.
In a sense, all of this is so contagious.
In the end we'll sin and then we'll rot together.

It's all right.
It's ok.
You're better off without me.
I'm hopeless.
I'm useless.
I'm worthless, but I can't help this.
It's all right.
It's ok.
You're better off without me.
I'm broken in two.
Call me ugly, (but so are you).

Roses are more beautiful when they're buried six feet under.
That is where you'll lay, in a shallow grave.
My doppelganger stares me in the eye, afraid that we're two of a kind.

It's all right.
It's ok.
You're better off without me.
I'm hopeless.
I'm useless.
I'm worthless, but I can't help this.
It's all right.
It's ok.
You're better off without me.
I'm broken in two.
Call me ugly