s from all those years of listening to Depeche Mode and wearing black. That shit never leaves you. There’s always a “woe is me” tear waiting to be shed. Always a poem in your past that never leaves, like words scrawled in the margin of a math notebook "my heart has been turned black as a night without the moon. you have torn my soul from body and i shall never feel anything again. i cry tears that are black as tar. woe. woe is me. woe, i say. i hate you and i want you to die." Wait, is that I want you to die or me? I get so confused. Maybe I was goth, not emo.Favorite song: You're So Last Summer (simply because it's an ode to passive aggressiveness)
Taking Back Sunday official site
