Here in line where stupid [bad word] collides with dying shooting stars
All we got to show what we really are is the same kind of scars
And looking at you, all I see is you're waiting for something
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You're a murder mile
You idiot kid
Your arm's got a death in it
If you're choking up, take this paper cup, but there's a price you'll pay
For trying hard to [bad word] whatever they are, and saying whatever they say
So help yourself to this bitter pill
Or somebody else will
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You're a murder mile
You idiot kid
Your arm's got a death in it
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