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Boulde

de M.Y.

How does it feel to be dragged under this pickup
truck where your heart has bled?
I'd love to say that I hate you,
and I can't forget the feeling in my head when
These miles behind us are going father,
and I seem to forget I'm still breathing.
Your sins they scream into my head,
and I know this has to end
Without you, without you.
How does it feel to be dead?
Alone and cold without the one since I went.
I'd love to say that I hate you.
For the pain you passed away,
for the anger cuddling myself to sleep.
These miles behind us are going farther,
and I seem to forget I'm still breathing.
Your sins they scream into my head,
and I know this has to end
Without you, without you.
I find it in you, it's tearing up my skin,
and finding its way to my heart.
You should rot like this.

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