Текст: Zico Chain, The. Last Week's Genius.

These words won't rhyme

And I don't have the time

And I can't wonder why

I threw it all away

I've got myself to blame

The words just never came



Oh is it nice to know that all my dreams are fading like they should?

A million eyes to cope with all these feelings

And is it wrong that I forgive myself for everything I love?

I'd rather die for chance than have no meaning



I'd hate myself

Be obviously au fait

A cliche for your page

You'd find me dead

A knife inside my head

A note beside my bed



Oh is it nice to know that all my dreams are fading like they should?

A million eyes to cope with all these feelings

And is it wrong that I forgive myself for everything I love?

I'd rather die for chance than have no meaning



I'd hate myself

But then I'm so au fait

In all your cliched ways

I can't explain

I've got myself to blame

I can't wonder why



Oh is it nice to know that all my dreams are fading like they should?

A million eyes to cope with all these feelings

And is it wrong that I forgive myself for everything I love?

I'd rather die for chance than have no meaning