We stumble and stare at the carnival lights that lit up New York City,
From the rooftop in Brooklyn that was covered in bad graffiti.
And then I let a thousand splinters pierce right through my spoiled liver,
Whatever that was left of it.

'Cause I cursed my lonely memory with picture-perfect imagery.
Maybe I'm not dying I'm just living in decaying cities,
But I'm still healthy, I'm still fine,
I'll be spending all my time readin' the obituaries.

But I will f*ck this up,
I f*cking know it.
I will f*ck this up,
I f*cking know it.
I will f*ck this up,
I f*cking know it.
I will f*ck this up,
I f*cking know it.

'Cause I am the shadow of the waxwing slain
I felt the false azure from windowpanes
I am just freaking out, yeah I'll be fine.

But I will f*ck this up,
I f*cking know it.
I will f*ck this up,
I f*cking know it.
I will f*ck this up,
I f*cking know it.
I will f*ck this up,
I f*cking know it.