They get on like a house on fire
Harmonizing in an anxious choir
And I can't seem to tear them apart
Now they're one with my heart
Inflammation of the brain
There's too much information
A perfect pair without a care
I call on out but no one's there
Except those friends inside my head
Who only speak to wish me dead
Arsonists born immune to fire
They are fueled by a shared desire
To see me burn in my home
To see me die alone
Inflammation of the brain
There's too much information
A perfect pair without a care
I call on out but no one's there
Except those friends inside my head
Who only speak to wish me dead