San Francisco

Walked ten miles to a hole in the ground
Now the only ghosts I see are pieces of you still reflected in me
I hope you destroy yourself
Drive fast into the burning bridge
And leave me on the side of the road
But you'll live
It will be a ritual of remembering

Hang your family from your living room ceiling fan with your small intestine
But they'll live and it will be
A ritual of remembering
You said no matter how many candles I light in a black mass
It will never change everything that I still lack

But I'm still waiting for pieces of your ear in the mail
And I'm still carving "I am my own god"
Deeper into my forearm every day
So what the fuck has changed?
Yellow paint won't change the world, my little van Gogh
You deserve so much happiness
You deserve so much more than this

You deserve so much more than this