Pale
by Panic· from Self-Titled
i'll tuck the soil around your unborn heads
what the fuck was i thinking of?
i'm sorry for the things i said
i'll tip my glass to misery and pour it on your graves
i can't believe i wasn't there for you
i fall asleep with a gun in my mouth
because of all the things i did
and i can't be at peace with myself
unless you know i cared
my hand against your cheek
so in the dark i could feel you smile