Hope You're Rotting

In some kind of night terror

There was this ghost

And we shared our deaths while sleepwalking through life

But as casualties rose, he found in me a scapegoat

He found his lack of passion as a fault of mine

And i hope the roses on his grave are rotting away

And if i take so much as a petal out on you, i'm sorry

But he's not worth mentioning cuz he means nothing to me now

Good as dead in a body bag, either hanged or shot or drowned

But before his grave he made it clear: my hands dug his hole

Then he slithered six feet under into that new home

And i hope the roses on his grave are rotting away

And if i take so much as a petal out on you, i'm sorry

And i hope the roses on his grave are rotting away

And if i take so much as a petal out on you, i'm sorry