...Back home in the train, almost midnight. Neon white and the morning after blues. Say my name, I'm not here to listen. Cloud nine, maybe, or maybe I'm too tired and my reasoning is lacking.
I don't want to jump to conclusions, I don't want to be a card in the game. Happens that from time to time you find just what you're looking for, but when you get what you want you don't want it anymore. I'm here to wait.
See if you can find the truth in all the lies, and rest your mind under a scar, or the wounds under my skin, the bites that make me keen. Violent encounters and eery afterglows. Is the fight in your eyes that keeps my skin alight, trashing and twisting under your hold.
But nevermind. We're just playing a game.
What you hide is what you are,
what it takes to be a star, come on.
You say there's beauty in a scar,
now, what a stupid thing you are, sometimes.