| Give me, give me, give me the truth now
|
| I promise I can handle it if you can
|
| Cause you’ve been running from yourself for way too long
|
| So give me any reason not to cut you out
|
| You’re far too gone, yeah
|
| Watch you pretend, you know it all
|
| Shift any blame aside
|
| Vending the victim when it sells
|
| How do you even sleep at night?
|
| As I drive and drive
|
| In that bleak December, you’re just too cold
|
| But I need the answer, before you’d fold
|
| You would hold your cards inside your chest
|
| I think I drove too far for that bleak December
|
| And how full of shit you are, how full of shit you are
|
| I really, really, really wanna know you
|
| And not all the fifty fucking personalities inside your skull
|
| If you’d stop trying to steal the spotlight and steal the show
|
| Then maybe you would have a better chance at not dying alone
|
| So I hit the road
|
| In that bleak December, you’re just too cold
|
| But I need the answer, before you’d fold
|
| You would hold your cards inside your chest
|
| I think I drove too far for that bleak December
|
| And how full of shit you are
|
| Now what are you to me
|
| But a fly inside a web of lies you weave
|
| You’re not fooling anyone, not you, not me
|
| So I wonder how you stay alive
|
| When all I do is freeze
|
| In that bleak December, you’re just too cold
|
| But I need the answer, before you’d fold
|
| You would hold your cards inside your chest
|
| I think I drove too far for that bleak December
|
| In that bleak December, you’re just too cold
|
| But I need the answer, before you’d fold
|
| You would hold your cards inside your chest
|
| I think I drove too far for that bleak December
|
| And how full of shit you are |