| The seamed things are addictive too
|
| Distinct desire to observe such heals, such behave
|
| Such that it makes this hard for me
|
| I’m not real
|
| And I deny it
|
| I won’t heal unless I cry
|
| I can’t grieve, I won’t grow, I won’t heal
|
| Until I let it go
|
| I’m not real
|
| And I deny it
|
| I won’t heal unless I cry
|
| The seamed things are addictive too
|
| Distinct desire to observe such heals, such behave
|
| Such that it makes this hard for me
|
| I’m not real
|
| And I deny it
|
| I won’t heal unless I cry
|
| I can’t grieve, I won’t grow, I won’t heal
|
| Until I let it go
|
| I’m not real
|
| And I deny it
|
| I won’t heal unless I cry
|
| I can’t grieve so I won’t grow, I won’t heal
|
| Til I let it go
|
| Cry, cry, cry
|
| Telling me why I lost myself identified
|
| Cry, cry, cry
|
| Telling you why I lost myself identified
|
| I’m not real
|
| And I deny it
|
| I won’t heal unless I cry
|
| I can’t grieve so I won’t grow, I won’t heal
|
| Til I let it go |