Hey, what a beautiful mess this is
Its like picking up trash in dresses
Well it kind of hurts; when the kind of words you write
Kind of turn themselves into knives
And don't mind my nerve you can call it fiction
But I like being submerged in your contradictions dear
Cause here we are, here we are
And its a beautiful mess, yes it is
Its like, we are picking up trash in dresses
Well it kind of hurts; when the kind of words you say
Kind of turn themselves into blades
And the kind and courteous is a life I've heard
But it's nice to say that we played in the dirt
Cause here, here we are, Here we are
Here we are
We're still here