Sitting in the woods, you and me alone
Thinking that train-wrecked boy
wasn't the only one to die here and be shown

What pieces of flesh, what scraps of skin
are taken out and passed around at recess, wherein

I'm ugly, hungry, only one loser, jaded, tired, 
I think I smell a fire.

Better than before it wasn't walking through the door
Always on my floor, calling me a [bad word] Always on my mind, with me half the time
Sneaking up and threatening what's mine.

I'm ugly, hungry, I'm only one loser
I fought it, I fight it, I fear I might like it
I'm sorry.
I do.