We stumble and stare at the carnival lights that lit up 
New York City,
From the rooftop in 
Brooklyn that was covered in bad graffiti.
And then I let a thousand splinters pierce right through my spoiled liver,
Whatever that was left of it.'
Cuz I cursed my lonely memory with picture-perfect imagery.
Maybe I'm not dying 
I'm just living in decaying cities,
But I'm still healthy, 
I'm still fine,
I'll be spending all my time readin' the obituaries.
But I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.'
Cuz I am the shadow of the wax wing slave.
I felt the buzz issued from window panes.
I am just freaking out, yeah 
I'll be fine.
But I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.
I will fuck this up,
I fucking know it.