You said you had dreamed Of a day where you'd kill yourself And, you said when I left Your body fell to the floor It's my fault, I hate that you're gone Your final words were about how unloveable you thought you were And at the end of the day I will lay your body in a pit full of stars I will crawl inside too but I will never feel you again Every single weekday, they sit in the 119 in three pairs of fishnets, a skirt, and whatever top fits them best that day. they open their phone to hundreds of unread messages, ignoring them all and tweeting the latest Competitive melee news But that isn't going to change They're out of breath but still here Sleep well, goodnight I'll be here Sleep well, goodnight I'll be here, again