i smoke to make sure those goddamn butterflies are dead
i cut my wrists nightly to make sure you no longer run in my veins
and i drink vodka to erase the bittersweet taste your lips left on mine
i smoke to make sure those goddamn butterflies are dead
i cut my wrists nightly to make sure you no longer run in my veins
and i drink vodka to erase the bittersweet taste your lips left on mine