Yeller (Our reactionary reaction to the actions of the actively reactionary.)

I've got nothing to say to you
I can't look at you, not after all you did
Cause the way that you scare me
Is the same way those voices do

And the walls come down and I hear what's up and I can't
Start to think of the ways that I thought that I trusted you

You knew what the consequence would be
You knew exactly what you were doing
And you're not listening to course-correct
You know it's not right, but that never seemed to stop you
You'd weaponize the language of the abused, use it against them
Every rabid dog goes and gets what's due
You're Old Yeller, and I'm afraid of dogs
And my rifle's out and I've got an itchy trigger finger

And I've heard what's up and it's all your fault and I can't
And I can't start to think of the ways that I trusted you
And I'm tired of living knowing everything that I know
Cause it's all too much, yeah it's all too much I can't

I hope whoever's holding you chokes you in your sleep
I hope whoever's holding you chokes you in your sleep
I hope whoever's holding you chokes you in your sleep
I hope whoever's holding you chokes you in your sleep
Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep