He takes of his shirt
A birthmark
Spots his skin
And through the window
He's built like a god
She paints her lips red
From the holes where they cracked
And in front of the TV
Her skin becomes
Pale and ugly
In front of the TV
Anyone can get ugly
I hate you
You are...
I close my hand towards it
But there's a hole anyway
So i can see everything
If you only knew how
Silly you look
And i run right past
Hit the cars and wake up their alarms
I am the boy who
Shot the rocket through his own hand
No one
Can fix a broken hand
I hate you
You are...