| You said it’s not you, it’s me
|
| With a revolver in my teeth
|
| But you turned away instead
|
| Threw the gun upon the bed
|
| And we left in separate cars
|
| You told me to pretend
|
| I could taste life on the air
|
| Despite the absence of an end
|
| When you’re lying in your deathbed
|
| I hope I appear in your head
|
| Baby, I’ll be dead by then
|
| I burned out at 27
|
| Oh you should have killed me
|
| It lingers like a dream
|
| It lingers like a dream
|
| All my well-thought through retorts
|
| All my last laugh movie scenes
|
| Just one thing before I go
|
| One more thing before I leave
|
| Failed assassin, you should know
|
| One more trick inside my sleeve
|
| When you’re lying in your deathbed
|
| I hope I appear in your head
|
| Baby, I’ll be dead by then
|
| I burned out at 27
|
| After years of drink and dance
|
| And wild well-publicised romances
|
| Oh, you should have killed me
|
| When you had the chance
|
| You really should have killed me when you had the chance
|
| My heart is still beating
|
| But it feels like an elevator trapped between floors
|
| My lungs are still breathing
|
| Like the airbags in the crashing of an empty car
|
| And you’ll live to see your name
|
| Published in my scathing memoirs
|
| And you’ll live to rue the failure
|
| Of not crushing all of my heart
|
| Why don’t you come back and finish off the job? |