| WE LOVE THE USED |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| THE USED |
 |
| maybe memories the taste of ink bulimic say days ago poetic tragedy buried myself alive a box full of sharop objects blue and yellow greener with the scenery noise & kisses on my own pieces mended |
| THE TASTE OF INK is it worth it can you even hear me standing with your spotlight on me not enough to feed the hungry i'm tired and i felt it for awhile now in this sea of lonely the taste of ink is getting old it's for o'clock in the fucking morning each day gets more and more like the last day still i can see it coming while i'm standing in the river drowning this could be my chance to break out this coule be my chance to say goodbye at last it's finally over couldn't take this town much longer being half dead wasn't what i planned to be now i'm ready to be free so here i am it's in my hands and i'll savor every moment of this so here i am alive at last and i'll savor every moment of this and won't you thinkin i'm pretty when i'm standing top the bright lit city and i'll take your hand and pick you up and keep you there so you can see as long as your alive and care i promise i will take you there and we'll drink and dance the night away as long as your alive here i am i promise i will take you there |