The door flies open before you count to ten.
Raising your hand is a means to an end.
Broken bottles surround your floor.
They tell a tale of your deepest regrets.
Now you lay on the floor.

Now how do breathe?
And how do you sleep when your life turns upside down?
And how do you feel now that you're here?
No [bad word] to mind.

We all cant count on ourselves in the worst of times.
And we all need a mirror to face to see past ourselves.
And if we could imagine a world where things were perfect.
Then we would never have to speak this lie to tell the [bad word] 

Tell me you'll wait here right by my side,
Through the worst of times you'll fight your pride,
pray well never part until we die.

Tell me you'll wait, tell me you'll stay.
Through these winding roads you'll always obey.
Tell me you'll wait right by my side.
No [bad word] to mind.