You said you saw me face down in the midst of burning psychology
I keep my hands in my pocket, and still the virus takes all of me
To them, perfection means standing like a flawless little statue
Forgive me if I have to scratch my wounds until they fade on cue
To be honest, I never trusted you to believe me in the first place
But imitation is suicide, they say
I'm real and I'm not ready to die
I have creepy beauty in this mind I created
I'm not about to give it all away
