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oh my love, can't you see, can't you see
that maybe (just maybe) you're better off without me
and the party—the music—it makes me believe
i don't care for anyone, for anything, but me

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- head full of pride
- not wanting to go back
- trying to be part of the A-list
- remembering past but trying to repress it

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my Tell-Tale Heart's a hammer in my chest
cut me a silk tie tourniquet

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Panic! At the Disco - Pray For The Wicked

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so paint me another sunset
(i'm not leaving this party anytime soon.
i'm not leaving this party for you.)

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(my music for you was always perfect, and since then, i've known nothing but perfect— that i am not allowed to be less than that in this golden world)

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i don’t want to look back at my humble beginnings
my good-for-nothing winnings
all those "achievements" that made me believe
that this feeling of fame can be replaced

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and so it seems (and it feels) that the world revolves around me—
and oh, do i love it.

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a new party each week, a new feeling to weak-

en the thoughts in my head, so instead

all the liquor that flows in my head

become songs in the end that never get written

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i await for a time when my love passes by,
when the fear in my eyes are thrown back in the past