| With broken wrists and weaker fists
|
| This is the last fight I’ll give away
|
| And there’s something terrible locked in her attic, so I’m told
|
| I can feel it on my face
|
| I still feel you everywhere
|
| And operator, I can’t hold much longer
|
| I can’t hold much longer
|
| I can’t hold on
|
| And operator, I can’t hold much longer
|
| I can’t hold much longer
|
| I can’t hold on
|
| There’s a spot by a bathroom door
|
| I dropped so fast, straight through the floor
|
| When I lost my grip on everything
|
| Eight feet underwater is where we dare
|
| Our locked lips keep out the water and the liars, full of nothing but air
|
| So if anybody talks of me, tell them I am never coming home again
|
| Tell them I am gone
|
| If anybody talks of me, tell them I am never coming home again
|
| Tell them I am gone
|
| And there’s a place that I might fit in, but it reeks like where we’ve been
|
| And perfect footprints from our feet, they are haunted just by me
|
| To the lady of the hour, liquor love is all the rage
|
| Your skin feels way too sour and I’ve lost my sense of taste |
| And operator, I can’t hold much longer
|
| I can’t hold much longer
|
| I can’t hold on
|
| And operator, I can’t hold much longer
|
| I can’t hold much longer
|
| I can’t hold on
|
| It’s a hole that we all fall in, where we fight for oxygen
|
| That’s where I caught my grip and became king
|
| Eight feet under covers, don’t forget that I’m here
|
| Warm secrets undercover with new friends and your holiday lovers
|
| So if anybody talks of me, just tell them I am never coming home again
|
| Tell them I am gone
|
| If anybody talks of me, tell them I am never coming home again
|
| Tell them I am gone
|
| So if anybody talks of me, tell them I’ll be gone forever
|
| Without these scars that are completely invisible |