This house is made of paper, built on the quickest sand. No pictures hang from its walls, because I'd rather run than stand. But you don't know, but you don't know the truth yet. You'll find it all out when I'm gone, I guess. I wanna tell you, always living on your skin. Because I'm tired of being covered in this film of fiction. I haven't believed a single damn word I've said. I've learned to tell the truth to shreds. Let's face the facts. We've been avoiding in our tender dream house. Take it all down. Watch it sink and smile wide. Before we have vanquished our reality. We'll be better off when it's buried underground. I wanna tell you, always living on your skin. Because I'm tired of being covered in this film of fiction. I haven't believed a single damn word I've said. I've learned to tell the truth to shreds. *