| So we scattered pretty arcs across the cities,
|
| Turned pockets of doubt into blankets of hope.
|
| Now it’s hard staying graceful, mostly sleeping central,
|
| At weekends my weak hands are shaky at best
|
| So you’re guilty again
|
| (Choose yr side and shut up! Choose yr side and shut up!)
|
| You’re falling apart, walk back to his car, and you’re as guilty as him
|
| (Choose yr side and shut up! Choose yr side and shut up!)
|
| That’s a pretty big heart but we’re gonna have to break it
|
| That’s the way it honestly feels
|
| We’re like; |
| STOP!
|
| But you don’t stop
|
| You just touch up yr make up
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| Keep grinding yr hips to the wheel
|
| (So they started kissing, lips of a magician
|
| In weeks they were tired, given months they were out
|
| Now they’re kinda settled somewhere on the coastline
|
| Can hardly recall what the rush was about)
|
| So you’re guilty again
|
| (Choose yr side and shut up! Choose yr side and shut up!)
|
| You’re falling apart, walk back to his car, and you’re as guilty as him
|
| (Choose yr side and shut up! Choose yr side and shut up!)
|
| That’s a pretty big heart but we’re gonna have to break it |