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And it starts like... |
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So we scattered pretty |
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Arcs across the cities |
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Turned pockets of doubt |
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Into blankets of hope |
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Now it's hard to stay graceful, |
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Mostly sleeping central, |
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At weekends my weak hands |
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Are shaky at best |
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So yr guilty again |
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(Choose yr side and shut up! Choose yr side and shut up!) |
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Falling apart and walk back to his car, and you're as guilty as him |
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(Choose yr side and shut up! Choose yr side and shut up!) |
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That's a pretty big heart but we're gonna have to break it |
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That's the way it honestly feels |
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We're like, STOP! |
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But you don't stop |
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You just touch up yr makeup |
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You're grinding yr hips to the wheel |
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So they started kissing, |
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Lips of a magician, |
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In weeks they were tired, given |
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Months they were out |
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Now they're kinda settled |
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Somewhere on the coastline |
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You can hardly recall what the rush was about |
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So you're guilty again |
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(Choose yr side and shut up! Choose yr side and shut up!) |
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Falling apart and went back to his car, you're as guilty as him |
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(Choose yr side and shut up! Choose yr side and shut up!) |
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It's a pretty big heart but we're gonna have to break it |
