| And you stand so tall in your head
|
| I’ll erase it all until you’re dead
|
| And regret that I didn’t call
|
| But enough’s enough, my heart is sunk
|
| And it feels
|
| Like sixteen
|
| Like a magazine
|
| Like I’m undoing
|
| A husk in my bed
|
| And I drive, it’s dusk, my eyes all red
|
| And a short, a fleeting thought comes in
|
| You’re alive until you own the sin
|
| And it feels
|
| Like eighteen
|
| Like a guillotine
|
| Like I’m
|
| Kicked out of home, mama, ten and alone
|
| I don’t care about things that I’m too young to know
|
| Rusted stove top, kettle boiling
|
| Feeling like my brain is rolling
|
| Like underneath my clothing
|
| Itchin' skin, my aching body
|
| Good grief, your own creation
|
| Lost for words, I find my patience
|
| Like in the heated moment
|
| Up for grabs but never noticed
|
| Inside my home, a shaking crawl
|
| And her eyes do roll and sheets get torn
|
| And again, a fleeting thought is formed
|
| But at five, it’s gone, the TV’s on
|
| And I dream
|
| Of release
|
| And the tears ease
|
| And I feel
|
| Kicked out of home, mama, ten and alone
|
| I don’t care about things that I’m too young to know
|
| Rusted stove top, kettle boiling
|
| Feeling like my brain is rolling
|
| Like underneath my clothing
|
| Itchin' skin, my aching body
|
| Good grief, your own creation
|
| Lost for words, I find my patience
|
| Like in the heated moment
|
| Up for grabs but never noticed
|
| Rusted stove top, kettle boiling
|
| Feeling like my brain is rolling
|
| Like in the heated moment
|
| Up for grabs but never noticed |