Do not try to figure out, everything we're passing by
Do not try to make amends, 'cause we both know how this ends
Fool, you're a tool a machine, means everything for someone, but nothing to me
And I can see in your eyes, and smell on your clothes, the taste of lie
So hold on apologies,
your critic sense means nothing to me,
not after everything you've done, so you can sit and laugh on your throne
'cause I don't care