And those dry lips Tearing through my mouth And your thighs and hips But I can't slow down Bite a finger, bite a tongue Hold my hand, hold a gun Another shirt, another pile Burning out in style Another crisis, another hole Dig my grave before I'm old Only fiction My addiction You're a dick son My reflection agrees And those copper ears Manifesting sound And your bloody tears Eating up the ground And your dirty nails Entering my skin And you're looking pale Because you know you'll never win Any deeper, you're cutting bone Feeling raw now, so just go home Another shirt, another pile Burning out in style Another crisis, another hole Dig my grave before I'm old Only fiction My addiction You're a dick son My reflection agrees Only fiction My addiction You're a dick son My reflection agrees Only fiction My addiction You're a dick son My reflection agrees