Starving for attention,
you get dolled up and fucked up on whatever you can find.
Trading yourself for phony friendships,
united by music but it's just a lie.
Butterfly, I remember when you were nothing
but a caterpillar crawling in the background of my company.
Now you flutter around, making friends with everyone,
or anyone who'll look your way.
And you don't give a shit.
You don't care about the words that we're saying the songs that we're playing.
You just care about you.
Fuck you.
You don't care about the words that we're saying
You don't care about the songs we're playing.
You don't like bands. You like boys with tattoos,
cigarettes, lipstick, cocaine, and cheap booze.