I'm never gonna go back there

Cool your jets, sweet pea, it's only half past 2.
You shouldn't be passing out yet, the drugs have hardly set in. But you're eyes, so hollow and cold, they look as though perhaps you've been worn out long before this encounter.
It's too bad, you had such a promising future of selling yourself. Of lighting yourself aflame so you can shine behind the crowd that called you worthless just last year. They don't know what it means to be a star. They don't understand what it means to glow in the morning heat.
And they never really will.
Do you know why?
Because,
I do.
It's called ignorance, and they eat a heaping bowl for breakfast.
A steaming cup for lunch.
A thick and savory plate of it for dinner.
And did I mention, 3 spoonfuls a day for the youngens.

Dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead deaD
They're all fucking dead on the inside and out.

Kill your voice, kill your soul
Kill your freedom
kill your freedom
kill your freedom?
Destroy the light
Destroy the voice you have,
the only one.
Because the words you choose are worthless.
And you only speak in the language of greed.

Yell at me viciously

People need to learn the concepts, they barely exist but obviously are still there. somewhat intact. I'll assume you know the question and can therefore give me the answer?
Falling over is easy to understand, in a literal way.
Figuratively falling over can be more difficult to comprehend.
Do you plan on reaching the top only to become the next tragedy?
Shakespeare would not approve of this.
This...tragic flaw you posses. It's far too cliche.
Overused, washed up, simple.
Sarcastic smiles and over the top laughter at lame jokes. Is this what we paid for? Is this what we came to enjoy? I'm practically gagging at the sight.
I'm practically choking at the moment you spit out your dessert and with eyes wide open crawl over the table, and into my arms. Into my body. Into my mouth. Down my throat, and into my heart.
How could I return the favour?
Cough you up and spit you out?
List the ways you make me feel pretty.
You make me feel ugly.
You make me feel lonesome.
You make me feel pity.
Pity for you.

but she said, we're all gonna die from the same fucking thing.
the same fucking disease.
The fashion and culture.
The shock of getting fat.
The shame of growing old, and;
Growing up.
Growing up.
Growing up.
Growing up.
Growing up.

Well we all one day wish we had listened to the protector.
when he told you nothing hurts more than a kiss on the mouth.
And when you swoon her, do it gently, with care.
Trust her. and she will trust you
therefore, the turnaround can occur.
----------------------
Pay for her dinner, pay for her drinks.
Pay for the cab ride home.
Pay for the kisses, pay for the sex.
But she'll pay when you leave her all alone.

unfinished life

I don't think you would want to know what I think of you.
But perhaps I'll share anyway.
You're pathetic, a low life, going nowhere, and you know it.
And you probably don't care, because I'm positive you'll be happy living on welfare, raising 10 children in a trailer park? Oh, and I know you'll never regret any of your ever so stupid decisions?
Right, right. Of course.
Act like everything is all fine and dandy.
When you're tripping on your shit,
On your lies,
On yourself.

Sit up straight, you piece of shit, look me in the eye and tell me where you're hearing the news...and if you say a little bird told you well, you can guarantee that you'll feel a sharp pain in your shins.