you'll forgive me for not shedding any tears at your wake
I'll lead the death march when you're lowered into the grave
I'm done biting my lip, sick of paying your debt
I'm tired of turning the other cheek
if I am an outsider, then I found my way home
if I am a stranger, then you never knew me at all
you're that old wine skin, rotting from the inside
can't feel it spreading, can't see it in your own eyes
I will be the first to strike the match to flame
you won't see it coming
you closed your eyes year ago
let it burn
you're dead
