it ain't no sin, to take off your skin and dance around in your bones

Come down off the cross, we could use the wood.

Let me fall out of the window/ With confetti in my hair

If I exorcise my devils, all my angels may go, too.

On my gravestone, I want it to say, "I told you I was sick."

I didn't really want to be part of a clique or a niche. But I also was looking for my own voice, as a writer, y'know? And a world I could call my own.

The beginning of it starts at the end