Mitch Harris Serve my head on a plate Pulp my heart with ill will I did trust you, let to lust you, to be duped Thanks for fucking nothing ! Serve my head on a plate Pulp my heart with ill will Sensed a mystique ? Turn to spent air ? Killed it dead Thanks for fucking nothing Scap the dephts to salvage something Thanks for fucking nothing Drained my all, then drop the bombshell True, we were not joined ? Our evey feature spliced Though you rushed in and took a lead Three words spouted This contagion Crossed all divides Caused a shift in protective focus Three words flouted Unnntimely end, I should've clicked ? A sensory cut-out A spoiling of the harmony, of which we were about I don't despise or demonise, But I just know your form Walk right out and move along, and teap before you look Thanks for fucking nothing !
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