Make-me-feel• Show poetry

Well I don't have a lot to say. I'm in a band. I love pets. I'm a vegetarian. I'm a freak to my school. And I only have one person I can Count on besides myself. Her user name is dead-love-for-fun. I love her.

Fall Out Boy Lyrics

"My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon"

I spent most of last night dragging this lake
for the corpses of all my past mistakes
sell me out - the joke's on you
we are salt - you are the wound
empty another bottle
and let me tear you to pieces
this is me wishing you
into the worst situations
I'm the kind of kid
that can't let anything go
but you wouldn't know a good thing
if it came up and slit your throat

Woah [x2]
Ooo
Woah [x2]

Your remorse hasn't fallen on deaf ears
rather ones that just don't care
cause I know
that you're in between arms somewhere
next to heartbeats
where you shouldn't dare sleep
Now I'll teach you a lesson
for keeping secrets from me

Take your taste back
peel back your skin
and try to forget how it feels inside
you should try saying no once in a while
oh once in a while
[x2]

And did you hear the news?
I could dissect you
and gut you on this stage
not as eloquent as I may have imagined
but it will get the job done (you're done)
every line is plotted and designed
to leave you standing
on your bedroom window's ledge
and everyone else that it hits
that it gets to
is nothing more than collateral damage

Take your taste back
peel back your skin
and try to forget how it feels inside
you should try saying no once in a while
oh once in a while
[x2]

"Saturday"

I'm good to go
And I'm going nowhere fast
It could be worse
It could be taking you there with me
I'm good to go
But it looks like I'm still on my own

I'm good to go
For something golden
Though the motions I've been going through have failed
And I'm coasting on potential towards a wall
At a 100 miles an hour

When I say
Two more weeks
My foot is in the door (yeah)
I can't sleep
In the wake of Saturday (Saturday)
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended

Pete and I attacked the lost Astoria*
with promise and precision and mess of youthful innocence
And I read about the afterlife
But I never really lived more than an hour (more than an hour)

When I say
Two more weeks
My foot is in the door (yeah)
I can't sleep
In the wake of Saturday (Saturday)
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended

And I read about the afterlife
But I never really lived
And I read about the afterlife
But I never really lived

Two more weeks
My foot is in the door
Me and Pete
In the wake of Saturday
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended
Saturday
Saturday