| Just as the sound of a tin roof expanding in the sun
|
| Differs not from the sound of the rain
|
| Falling in and out of love, sometimes
|
| Can begin to feel the same
|
| But I’m smoking more, I’m eating less
|
| I’ve lost capacity to excess
|
| And so through a note or blown up in smoke
|
| I relinquish all my control
|
| And when you talk too much
|
| People start thinking they heard things that you never said
|
| When you’re verbally incontinent
|
| Who could truly understand what you meant?
|
| Excess gave wings — learn to fly
|
| Come sunrise, it took away the sky
|
| But I’m cognisant of the hefty price
|
| How many does it bring back to life?
|
| I’m drinking more and I’m sleeping less
|
| I’m losing all that I possess
|
| I’m happiest, when I’m a mess
|
| But I can’t survive as anything less than this
|
| Anything less than this
|
| And if I drink too much
|
| I don’t think that you’ll believe all that I have to say
|
| I’ll be fucking incoherent then
|
| And you’ll have never understood what I meant
|
| When I speak of the end
|
| Articulate, enunciate
|
| «So what the fuck are you trying to say?»
|
| My axiom, my oxygen
|
| Honey, rid yourself of me
|
| I’m a fucking disease
|
| In a world contrived, I swore it on my life
|
| That I’d never be the one to leave your side
|
| Time heals and time takes away
|
| But to you, I’ll remain a fucking liar
|
| And you were so fucked up
|
| That I don’t know if I can live with all that I have said
|
| I’ve lost all self-respect
|
| And no longer can I sleep with your voice in my head
|
| Articulate, enunciate
|
| «So what the fuck are you trying to say?»
|
| My axiom, my oxygen
|
| Honey, rid yourself of me
|
| I’m a fucking disease
|
| So shame, shame, shame on me
|
| I could never have done this without a drink
|
| And so shame, shame, shame on me
|
| Honey, rid yourself of me
|
| I’m a fucking disease |