| I wake up with the same pain every night
|
| Digging a hatchet into my left side
|
| Clearing my chest of something to burn
|
| Ash for a decorative urn you keep in your mantelpiece;
|
| Like a trophy for everything
|
| That withers eventually
|
| Call me a coward, but I’m too scared to leave
|
| 'Cause I want you to be the last thing I see
|
| C’mon, call me a coward, because I’m too scared to leave
|
| Watched you pouring lighter fluid out onto the leaves
|
| And I would’ve loved you with the dying fire
|
| Let you smother me down to the embers
|
| Frostbite turning my limbs as black as cinder of funeral pyre
|
| And I would have stayed if you’d asked me to
|
| Stood outside till my lips turn blue
|
| I wouldn’t have blamed you
|
| For leaving me there on the porch while you drank gasoline
|
| 'Cause it’s what you needed so bad
|
| And it’s true
|
| It’s nothing that we could do |