| This wasn’t supposed to be external
|
| But it seems I’ve made a mess
|
| This wasn’t meant to be special
|
| Now its nagging me confess
|
| Don’t talk to me
|
| I could improvise solutions
|
| I could try to re-frame
|
| Until I’m left with your admission
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| That I’m not all there is to blame
|
| I could lie to be gentle
|
| We will never be the same
|
| The more adamant I am that it’s the surface
|
| The more the walls begin to flake
|
| Don’t talk to me
|
| Don’t talk to me
|
| Keeping count
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| As if the hurt could balance
|
| Don’t walk with me
|
| Your dirty feet are obvious
|
| And how could you brag confidence
|
| A willing keen participant
|
| In rolling waves of incidents
|
| You’ve made your bed now sleep in it you prince
|
| They would’ve flared out like summer
|
| Just some pictures I could keep
|
| Your memory’s inventive
|
| I won’t ever fall asleep
|
| And now I’m sorry for explaining
|
| How you fucked it up again
|
| Now I’m watching you backpedal
|
| I wasn’t supposed to feel ashamed |