Dear Miss Sympathetic,
even butterfly wings wither away
Someone's got a knife to my back
determined to see inside
angled nails, broken glass
suits you perfect in high-heeled killers

In this flood, we'll be baptized in what could have been
And this flood will be drowning our lungs with apathy

We've inhaled smoke that dried out our lungs
as we set ourselves aflame

Dear Miss Sympathetic,
even butterfly wings wither away

We set ourselves aflame
Now you'll see us burn

Dear Miss Sympathetic,
even butterfly wings wither away

Now you'll see us burn