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 And hiding, and lying And searching for solutions To my problems at the bottom Of the fuckin' bottle Find the strength And kill yourself Reinvent the new you Find the strength And kill all the parts That you don't love