| Regardless of the number, the meaning still remains
|
| The ink that I’ve split onto this sheet is stained with the guilt you carried
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| From the first week of knowing you
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| Even those first few words that you uttered out of that entrancing mouth of
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| yours
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| I took too far to heart
|
| But the realization that they had steadily become rotten was far more than
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| withstandable
|
| No… Convincing myself that what I took for real was just a twisted illusion
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| And that your words could be held with some sense of meaning…
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| Was far easier to withstand
|
| You see, I just wanted to act like I had a perfect life, like we were perfect,
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| like nothing else in the world could be anymore perfect
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| But I guess I’ll never get that
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| And maybe it was my illusion of perfection
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| Or how that word was engraved in my brain every time you’d look at me with that
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| relentless stare
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| That haunting, creeping stare that I so loathed
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| But I didn’t loathe it enough to not let it ensnare me
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| Though I knew of the branches' thorns
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| I let it wrap itself around me
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| Drawing blood with every inch that it covered
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| With every limb that it captured and claimed its own
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| I let it creep and crawl its way around me
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| Until I had nothing left to call my own
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| Which made the cutting of the branches that much harder
|
| Pieces of me trapped between the thorns
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| Tearing apart and leaving the hollow being that I like to call a body
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| Cause that’s all that was left
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| It’s like the lights were on and the water was running
|
| But I couldn’t have been any further gone
|
| Scared, scraped, and just remnants of what I once was
|
| Left to rot and wither as the branches claimed what they thought rightfully
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| there’s
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| Moving on to the next with no less sympathy than the last
|
| For months I tried to hate, tried to resent, tried to forget
|
| But I end up laughing instead
|
| I know that you’re the last person I should want to see, but it’s just not that
|
| way to me
|
| Because every time I look at the scars you left covering the undersides of my
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| arms
|
| I only see the beauty that once was
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| I only see the times we enjoyed, and not the times that we regret
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| The times you left me star struck and teary eyed and not broken and alone
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| Please God I just wish you had poured meaning into the word we call «love»
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| Made it more than a word, at least that’s how it was to me
|
| Even after I’ve picked out every last thorn that’s dug itself neck deep into my
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| skin
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| I can’t toss them into the flames like every photo from when I once knew you
|
| Because the pain it reminds me
|
| I wish I’d known what you had wanted
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| Wanted all along
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| Thought you wanted me, my heart on my sleeve
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| I had thought wrong
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| I wish I’d known what you had wanted
|
| Wanted all along
|
| Though you wanted me, my heart on my sleeve
|
| I had thought wrong
|
| I wish I’d known what you had wanted
|
| Wanted all along
|
| Thought you wanted me, my heart on my sleeve
|
| I had thought wrong
|
| I wish I’d known what you had wanted
|
| Wanted all along
|
| Thought you wanted me, my heart on my sleeve
|
| I had thought wrong
|
| I wish I’d known what you had wanted
|
| Wanted all along
|
| Thought you wanted me, my heart on my sleeve
|
| I had thought wrong
|
| I wish I’d known what you had wanted
|
| Wanted all along
|
| Thought you wanted me, my heart on my sleeve
|
| I had thought wrong
|
| I Wish I knew. |