| And in the night
|
| It was a drunken stutter
|
| Started as a next to nothing conversation
|
| And then he's tearing me out
|
| Taking me apart at my friend's house
|
| I was uncomfortable
|
| I was hurt
|
| Still with blue innocence in his eyes
|
| I felt my reasoning was harsh
|
| With every stab wound and exhale
|
| I promised myself that I would never lose my youthful fears of grown up men
|
| I'm scarred with cruel intentions
|
| I thought of another the whole time
|
| Who would have never stared me like that
|
| See he saw me as a human
|
| This one thinks I'm a slaughterhouse
|
| He pretends that he's understanding
|
| And you know in the grand scheme of everything
|
| He's probably called a nice man
|
| Or an ordinary kind of man
|
| Or a stereotype with strong hands
|
| I'm so sad at how little joy I realised within my time with my ex guy
|
| Before these statues arrived
|
| Romance is dead and done
|
| And it hits between the eyes on this side
|
| The grass is dead and barren
|
| And it hurts between my thighs on this side
|
| I could begin to open up and risk desire
|
| For I move slower and
|
| Quieter than most
|
| I grew up too quick and I still forgive too slow
|
| Oh I wish there was another way
|
| Romance is dead and done
|
| And it hits between the eyes on this side
|
| The grass is dead and barren
|
| And it hurts between my thighs on this side
|
| See me here
|
| Meet me here
|
| I don't care
|
| If it's not repeated
|
| I want to know who you are
|
| For every second we outrun the moon and dread the sun come up
|
| I want to know who you are
|
| So I don't have to check my stuff's still here when you're gone
|
| I want to know who you are
|
| I want to know who you were
|
| Romance is dead and done
|
| And it hits between the eyes on this side
|
| The grass is dead and barren
|
| And it hurts between my thighs on this side
|
| This side
|
| This side
|
| This side
|
| This side |