Pagliacci's Dead

The comedy is finished, the harlequin is dead Watch on with a thousand yard stare, stomach full of dread Watch on through the white line fools, the stench of cheap perfume Of cigarettes, of rotten flesh, of people that aren't you Feel the sting of the insta women The brain worms of the beatified The men whose lives are asinine If you didn't laugh, you'd cry I loathe this life I am dead inside Stab me in the spotlight, stab me in the front It's never just a bleeding heart, it's willing punishment Face me to the fourth wall, watch me spill my guts Howl along the moon is full and no one's screaming cut Feel the sting of the insta women The brain worms of the beatified The men whose lives are asinine If you didn't laugh, you'd cry I loathe this life I am dead inside I loathe this life I am dead inside