| And i recall, swearing on, every mother’s grave i wouldn’t write this song
|
| But i can’t help it when you drink just to get sick
|
| And throw up all those put downs that come from your mouth
|
| My insides are congested
|
| And you are the wrecked car
|
| The one that caused the traffic
|
| A stand still that stills
|
| The movement of my heart
|
| And i recall, swearing on, every mother’s grave i wouldn’t write this song
|
| But i can’t help it when you drink just to get sick
|
| And throw up all those put downs that come from your mouth
|
| You’re a plane, missing, a wing
|
| Again i watched you spin until you hit
|
| Where your words buried me
|
| And the earth crushed my body
|
| My chest is a piano i breathe
|
| And my ribs play my heart strings slowly
|
| And the dirt, the composer so brilliant
|
| Funny how the best songs always come from him
|
| Just say something to unearth me
|
| Just say something to unearth me
|
| Just say something to unearth me
|
| So just say one thing to unearth me
|
| If the idea of you and i was something more concrete an old building
|
| I would surely be the ivy and i would cling to it
|
| When i dream of us i always see pins in our necks
|
| I see a doctor and he says
|
| Yeah he swears we’re not monsters
|
| Oh doctor, i beg to differ
|
| And i recall, swearing on, every mother’s grave i wouldn’t write this song
|
| But i can’t help it when you drink just to get sick
|
| And throw up all those put downs that come from your mouth
|
| And i recall, swearing on, every mother’s grave i wouldn’t write this song
|
| But i can’t help it when you drink just to get sick
|
| And throw up all those put downs that come from your mouth |