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She says she’s no goodWith words but I’m worseBarely stuttered out, “A joke of a romantic”Or stuck to my tongue
Weighed down with wordsToo over-dramaticTonight it’s, “It can’t get much worse”Vs. “No one should ever feel like”
I’m two quarters and a heart downAnd I don’t want to forget how your voice soundsThese words are all I have so I’ll write themSo you need them just to get by
Dance, danceWe’re falling apart to half timeDance, danceAnd these are the lives you’d love to leadDance, this is the way they’d loveIf they knew how misery loved me
You always fold justBefore you’re found outDrink up, it’s last call, last resortBut only the first mistake and
I’m two quarters and a heart downAnd I don’t want to forget how your voice soundsThese words are all I have so I’ll write themSo you need them just to get by
Why don’t you show me the little bit of spineYou’ve been saving for his mattress, love
I got my stitches stitched, I got my fixes fixed,
In my aching head, I got my kisses slit.
Our gossip lips stuttered every word I said, I said,
I got your love letters, corrected the grammar and sent them back.
It’s true romance is dead, I shot it in the chest then in the head.
And if you wanna go down in history then I’m your prince,
Because they’ve got me in a bad way I’ve never seen a heart I couldn’t break.
It was never about the songs, it was competition.
Make the biggest scene, make the biggest…
Which came first, the music or the misery?
We’re high-fashion, we’re last chances.
Which came first, the music or the misery?
We’re high-fashion, we’re last chances.
I’m casually obsessed and I’ve forgiven death,
I am indifferent, yet (I am a total wreck)
I’m every cliche, but I simply do it best.
And if you wanna go down in history then I’m your prince,
Because they’ve got me in a bad way I’ve never seen a heart I couldn’t break.
It was never about the songs, it was competition,
Make the biggest scene, make the biggest…
Which came first, the music or the misery?
We’re high-fashion, we’re last chances.
Which came first, the music or the misery?
We’re high-fashion, we’re last chances.
(Go!)
I went to sleep a poet, and I woke up a fraud,
To calm your nerves I’m feeling for my clothes in the dark.
Bury me standing under your window with the cinder block in hand
Yeah cause no one will ever feel like this again
And if I could move I’m sure it would only be to crawl back to you
I must have dragged my guts a block… they were gone by the time we {talked}…
Whoa, I want to hate you half as much as I hate myself
{But} you know that I could crush you with my voice
Stood on my roof and tried to see you forgetting about me
Hide the details I don’t want to know a thing
I hate the way you say my name like it’s something secret
My pen is the barrel of the gun.
Remind me which side you should be on
Stood on my roof and tried to see you forgetting about me
Hide the details I don’t want to know a thing
I’m a preacher sweating in the pewsFor the salvation I’m bringing youI’m a salesman, I’m selling you hooks and plansAnd myself making demands
When I’m home alone I just dance by myselfAnd you pull my head so close, volume goes with the truthSigning off, “I’m alright in bed but I’m better with the pen”The kid was alright but it went to his head
I am God’s gift but why would he bless me withSuch wit without a conscience equipped?I’m addicted to the way I feel when I think of you, whoa“There’s too much green to feel blue”
sat outside my front window…this story’s going somewhere:
“He’s well hung,” and I am hanging up.
Well there’s a song on the radio that says:
“Let’s get this party started.”
So let’s get this party started.
What you do on your own time’s just fine.
My imagination’s much worse, I just never want to know.
What meant the world had folded
like legs and fingers holding onto what escapes me;
what he has: a better kiss that never lasts.
You said, between your smiles and regrets: “Don’t say it’s over.”
Dead and gone, dead and gone, yeah
Calm before the storm set it off, and the sun burnt out tonight.
A reception less than warm set it off, and the sun burnt out to…
This is me standing in the arch of the door
hating that look that’s on your face
that says there’s another fool like me.
There’s one born every minute, there’s one born every minute.
What you do on your own time’s just fine.
My imagination’s much worse, I just never want to know.
What meant the world imploded, inflated then demoted all my oxygen
to product gas and suffocated my last chance.
(Source: somethingcreativeat)
