These Things

I still hate these stranger things
They think they talk to me they’re only bothering
Cut up and hollow like a jack-o-lantern
Stuff inside my own razors
When I had turned seventeen
Gillette and company delivered to me
And the box says no one else but me

Well I’d just like some room to breath
Don’t you know these things couldn’t satisfy me
I’m gone
I’m only a number away

I numb myself with sugary knots
I’m responsible for it
It’s all my fault
I’m the one who dug this holе in my heart
I’ll cut these еyeballs to make it all stop
Oh Saint Anthony why don’t you speak to me
A brain made marshmellow philosophy
You should know this isn’t what I mean

(I’m thumb)

And the box says no one else but me