| Think I’ll rename my heart, to calendar
|
| 'Cause it’ll surely know just when to end
|
| And I’ve been looking at you through the telephone
|
| As the photograph whispers that she isn’t even home
|
| So alone, I bleed myself right in
|
| Unusual here breathing, inviting the silence
|
| But you’re not here
|
| You’re nowhere near at all
|
| Just skin and atmosphere
|
| And if it’s not what you wanted
|
| Better get out now
|
| Alone it takes me
|
| Underneath it’ll surely break me
|
| Underneath these things
|
| Twenty some years my parents let themselves leave
|
| I always swore that would never, ever be me
|
| And now you’re looking at me through a new lens
|
| Your voice on the end doesn’t understand anything, nor do I
|
| Paper cuts for me
|
| Unusual here breathing, inviting the silence
|
| But you’re not here
|
| You’re nowhere near at all
|
| Just skin and atmosphere
|
| And if it’s not what you wanted
|
| Better get out now
|
| Alone it takes me
|
| Underneath it’ll surely break me
|
| Prove me wrong, I want you to prove me wrong
|
| But you’re not here
|
| You’re nowhere near at all
|
| Just skin and atmosphere
|
| And if it’s not what you wanted
|
| Better get out now
|
| Alone it takes me
|
| Underneath it’ll surely break me
|
| I want you to prove me wrong
|
| I want you to prove me…
|
| Think I’ll rename my heart, to calendar |