What we are is not under control
We’re the kids who won’t do what we’re told
All the words that I carve out of my throat
They keep me alive, but keep me alone
So, I shove those things in microphones
To feel like I might matter, I don’t
Wrap your scars around my radio
Let it hit soft and sweet and slow
Baby, spit in my mouth so I can hold
All of the junk you’ve ever been told
I’m a last chance bet, a neon ghost
But, man, the dirtiest lights shine the most
I blur all this hurt into sound (x8)