What's better than a devil you know?
A call away from empty words,
Better left a dead end. Never imposed.
A bitter never-come-to-terms.
Closed off to your call box.
A mental image you've come to loathe.
You'll never seem to shake his voice.
It's only at your lowest low you're all alone.
Closed to your darling call box.
I won't relive to revive your ego again.
Nothing left to believe you'll learn from.
Nothing left but to cut the line.
A dead end, closed call box.
Your mistake here to pick up the toll,
A chance in hell says I might've called.
A bitter never-come-to-terms.
A part of me no better than you.
Scars left from a hate unlearned.
A tourniquet to deaden the hue,
A consequence of which you've earned.
At your lowest low you're alone.
Closed to your darling call box.
I won't relive to revive your ego again.
Nothing left to believe you'll learn from.
Nothing left but to cut the line.
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