To the one, two, raised me up
As of late, I've been in a little bit of a flux
You see, when you present a Jekyll-Hyde menagerie
And, "Take a side!" everybody's always yelling at me
Well, you can breathe how this gets a little complex
Not a product of the past, patched together, Tron-bred
They say the nut doesn't fall far from the tree
But the tree's roots have been scorched from the green
Willfully ignoring all that you do
From the good to the bad, both tore me in two
You never envisioned the tire skid
But if you did, maybe you would have the sense to quit
Painting effigies brown to beige
Either send them to their home or send them all up in a blaze
If I had a nickel for every time that you fell
I could build a monument to all the virtues you upheld

Two parts of a heart doesn't make it whole
And the foil on a coin doesn't make it gold
And the poison in your voice doesn't make it bold
It only turns the fire burning on your pyre cold
Two parts of a heart doesn't make it whole
And the foil on a coin doesn't make it gold
And the poison in your voice doesn't make it bold
It only turns the fire burning on your pyre cold

The frayed wire that connects the heart to the brain
Is like a window where the rain sprays only one pane
And the rain pushes away the flag at the mast
It was ordered when you sliced up my aorta in half
Never mind that the golden ticket wood is rickety
But the base provided was tainted with acidity
And when the gunk gushes out of my gloves
I can scrawl across the wall my definition of love
Scrape from the shelves off a layer of rust
What your left with's a cross between a shell and a husk
Does it count not to struggle when depraved waves hit?
Is it grounded when refraining from your way of saying shit?
A pacifist, equipped with these twisted hands
Inertia when uncovering your mystic lands
If I had the courage I could Moses the blue
I suppose I'll wrap my boas in glue

Two parts of a heart doesn't make it whole
And the foil on a coin doesn't make it gold
And the poison in your voice doesn't make it bold
It only turns the fire burning on your pyre cold
Two parts of a heart doesn't make it whole
And the foil on a coin doesn't make it gold
And the poison in your voice doesn't make it bold
It only turns the fire burning on your pyre cold