| Don’t, don’t even try
|
| Try to lick the hand of my open wound
|
| When you know that I will find out soon
|
| I feel like I’m back at school
|
| When you look at me so helplessly
|
| But you’re as guilty as a charge could be
|
| There was something amiss when I met you
|
| By the side of the house when I caught you
|
| The devil’s punch throbbing at my side
|
| You take me on an oxbow lake now
|
| You float upstream when I go down
|
| Nothing seems to coincide
|
| So let it die, let it die, let it die
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| No, not any way
|
| Wax syllables on an open fire
|
| Won’t melt the heart of my broken parts
|
| I mean, did it have to be me?
|
| Or is this the crux of a thought out fix
|
| Where words hurt harder than stones or sticks?
|
| There was something amiss when I met you
|
| By the side of the house when I caught you
|
| The devil’s punch throbbing at my side
|
| You take me on an oxbow lake now
|
| You float upstream when I go down
|
| Nothing seems to coincide
|
| So let it die, let it die, let it die
|
| Don’t let go |