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These bags under my eyes are getting darker and I’ve never heard of sleep. The herder is a fucking illusion, there’s no hope for the sheep. At the end of the day I could say I’m haunted, can’t tell if I’m dead or just fucking unwanted. At the end of the day I could say I’m haunted. Sheet me fucking dead, I’ll let my eyes roll back into my head. Wishing I was dead, wishing I was dead. If I could take back every single word I’ve said maybe I’d be less unwanted, maybe I’d be fucking dead! Snake eyes rolling back into my head, wishing I was dead, wishing I was dead’ 💕