Fbs

Oh, wouldn’t it be such a nice introduction to tell you what you see is what
you get?
But to tell the truth, you don’t know me
Not like you could’ve tried
Plaster me with an identity so I can hardly see
If that’s what makes you happy
My sight’s getting worse
I sleep through the exits
You keep me up through the night
With the thoughts that I hide behind
Now gather round to see a portrait so bittersweet
You’ll place the blame on me
And when the colors start to fade
Take the artist to the stake
Burn him at the stake
My sight is getting worse
I sleep through the exits
You keep me up through the night
With the thoughts that I hide behind
Now gather round to see…
The paint chip off this frame
You’re speeding up the process
Just get it over with, I can’t take this
You look amused with your progress
And I can’t help but break through the paint