
on the morning you died, you lay face down on your bed, and mumbled a goodbye in your half sleep.
i came home from school and you had gone for good this time. it wasn't even messy, a tidy little wound at the back of your head. there wasn't much to clean up.
but there's a wreck inside of me, empty rooms and memories that taste like metal in my mouth.
i'm just living on your money and the bloody mess you made of our lives.
i'm just living on your money and the heart wound you left behind.
all i can really find to thank you for lately, is the way it felt when they told me you had gone.
thank you, because now i know i could never do that to anyone else.
in some fucked up way, you're keeping me alive.