I can't tell you what it really is, I can only tell you what it feels like

And right now there's a steel knife in my windpipe.

I can't breathe, but I still fight while I can fight.

As long as the wrong feels right it's like I'm in flight.

High of a love. Drunk from the hate.

It's like I'm huffing paint.

And I love it the more that I suffer. I sufficate.

And right before im about to drown, She resuscitates me.

She fucking hates me. And I love it.

It's so insane. Cause when it's going good it's going great.

I'm Superman with the wind in his bag.

But when it's bad, it's awful.

I feel so ashamed. I snap.

Who's that dude? I don't even know his name.

I laid hands on her.

I'll never stoop so low again.

I guess I don't know my own strength.