One Day The Only Butterflies Left Will Be In Your Chest As You March Towards Your Death

On the verge of no return, why'd you keep fucking it up?

Don't wanna have to bury you, but nothing seems to get through your skull

One day, the only butterflies left will be in your chest

As you march towards your death, breathing your last breath

I hate to say, "I told you so", but look how the bruises show