FTS (KYS)

I’ve killed off the parts of me
That prove to be weak
Unable to cope
With this world
And the terrors of life
That keep me awake
Through the night

I’d poison myself
Like a sport; competitively
The last man standing’s the loser
And the first one down
Is the first one
To find the escape
And I never lose

I grew tired of running
Hiding, and lying
And searching for solutions
To my problems at the bottom
Of the fuckin bottle

Find the strength
And kill yourself
Rеinvent the new you
Find thе strength
And kill all the parts
That you don’t love