| And this ship will sink before it sails
|
| And your friends left you on sand again
|
| And your mom she hates the way that you dress
|
| But your dad he needs your voice when you sing
|
| And this bike cannot make it up this hill
|
| And your back is twisted just from your spine
|
| And these stories you write about people in love
|
| Are not stories at all about people in love
|
| And your black eyes match your black dress (match your black eyes)
|
| And your black eyes match your lipstick (match your black dress)
|
| And your black eyes match your heart ache (match your black eyes)
|
| And your heart ache is the killer (is the killer)
|
| And your black eyes match your black dress (match your black eyes)
|
| And your black eyes match your lipstick (match your black dress)
|
| And your black eyes match your heart ache (match your black eyes)
|
| And your heart ache is the killer (is the killer)
|
| And this ship will sink before it sails
|
| And your friends left you on sand again
|
| And your mom she hates the way that you dress
|
| But your dad he needs your voice when you sing
|
| And this bike cannot make it up this hill
|
| And your back is twisted just from your spine
|
| And these stories you write about people in love
|
| Are not stories at all about people in love |