Из альбома: Enemies Of The Music Business
Serve my head on a plate
Pulp my heart with ill will
I did trust you, led to lust you, to be duped
Thanks for fucking nothing!
Serve my head on a plate
Pulp my heart with ill will
Sensed a mystique, turned to spent air? Killed it dead
Thanks for fucking nothing
Scraped the depths to salvage something
Thanks for fucking nothing
Drained my all, then dropped the bombshell
True, we were not joined/ our every feature spliced
Though you rushed in and took a lead
Three words spouted
This contagion
crossed all divides
caused a shift in protective focus
Three words flouted
Untimely end, I should've clicked? a sensory cut-out
A spoiling of the harmony, of which we were about
I don't despise or demonize, but I just know your form
Walk right out and move along, and leap before you look
Thanks for fucking nothing!