Disarm you with a smile, and cut you like you want me to cut that little child inside of me, and such a part of you. Oh, the years burn. I used to be a little boy, so old in my shoes. And what I choose is my choice, what's a boy supposed to do? The killer in me is the killer in you, my love. I send this smile over to you.

Disarm you with a smile, and leave you like they left me here to wither in denial, the bitterness of one who's left alone.

And what I choose is my voice, What's a boy supposed to do? The killer in me is the killer in you, my love. I send this smile over to you.