live with ourselves

the clock read just a quarter past insane, a second past demented and deranged, a hat trick or two along the way, for wide eyes and bloody mary veins, a far cry from the man that we once knew, a blind eye just to try and make it through, a white lie and a moral black and blue, so keep a bottle on the shelf, and a spot reserved in hell, now tell me how can we live with ourselves, you can't bury your shame underground, there's no grave for the pain that you've felt, tell me how can you live with yourself, throat cut by the feelings of your own, dissatisfaction, the chemical reaction keeps you vacant, in the solace of your mind, and if i ever had to say goodbye, don't bother with the remnants of a broken life, i know, that you'd be better letting go, so keep a bottle on the shelf, and a spot reserved in hell, now tell me how can we live with ourselves, you can't bury your shame underground, there's no grave for the pain that you've felt, tell me how can we live with ourselves, typically, he keeps his habits in the attic, hypocritically, he never minds how symptomatic, intuition can be, when it's laced with something tragic, so he sits and he bleeds, unaware how problematic, all my issues can be, drunk, dramatic and erratic, so i'll sit and i'll bleed, leave me to my fucking habits, and typically, yeah the world is something tragic, you better listen to me, 'cause i swear this time i've had it, and now tell me how can we live with ourselves, you can't bury your shame underground, there's no grave for the pain that you've felt, tell me how can we live with ourselves, now tell me how can we live with ourselves, you can't bury your shame underground, there's no grave for the pain that you've felt, tell me how can we live with ourselves, tell me how can we live with ourselves, you can't bury your shame underground, there's no grave for the pain that you've felt, tell me how can we live with ourselves