| My lips like wicks are burning
|
| Guess now I can’t unlearn it
|
| This tribal fire like an empire of tables turning
|
| I’m breathing in my question
|
| Exhaling my direction
|
| You say you like my discretion
|
| But you love the little cracks in my display
|
| The way your finger lingers in my brain
|
| All the wayward teeth you meet that love to eat
|
| This tragic magic in my brain
|
| I should know by now when I’m kicking the habit
|
| The habit kicks back
|
| I should know by now when I’m kicking the habit
|
| The habit kicks back
|
| Rip this sound out of the static
|
| Dramatically emphatic
|
| Was hiding skeletons in closets now I’m filling attics
|
| Somehow you’re still here living
|
| Off of my indecision
|
| This mis-addiction is mixing fiction
|
| With simple little facts that you reframe
|
| The way you make the savage seem so tame
|
| All the complicated things that breach my dreams
|
| And make my price and vice the same
|
| I should know by now when I’m kicking the habit
|
| The habit kicks back
|
| I should know by now when I’m kicking the habit
|
| The habit kicks back
|
| I should know by now when I’m kicking the habit
|
| The habit kicks back
|
| I should know by now
|
| I should know by now when I’m kicking the habit
|
| The habit kicks back
|
| I should know by now when I’m kicking the habit
|
| The habit kicks back |