|
Goddammit Amy, we're not kids anymore. |
|
You can't just keep waltzing out of my life, |
|
Leaving clothes on my bedroom floor. |
|
Like nothing really matters, |
|
Like pain doesn't hurt, |
|
You should mean more to me by now, |
|
Than just heartbreak in a short skirt. |
|
You know you kinda remind me of scars on my arms, |
|
That I made when I was a kid, |
|
With a disassembled disposable razor I stole from my dad, |
|
When I thought that suffering was something profound, |
|
That weighed down wise heads, |
|
And not just something to be avoided, |
|
Something normal people dread. |
|
Well goddammit, Amy, |
|
Well of course I've changed. |
|
With all the things that I've done and the places I've been, |
|
I'd be a machine if I had stayed the same. |
|
You're still back where we started, |
|
You haven't changed at all. |
|
Yeah you're still trying to live like a kid, |
|
Like you could always have it all. |
|
You know you kinda remind me of scars on my arms, |
|
That I hid, as best I could. |
|
That I covered with ink, but in the right kind of light, |
|
They still bleed through, |
|
Showing that there are some things that I just cannot change, |
|
No matter what I do. |
|
The telltale signs of being used, |
|
Being trapped inside of you. |
|
You're a beautiful butterfly, |
|
Burned with a branding iron, |
|
Onto my outsides, |
|
Into my insides. |
|
As a simple sign, to show off your ownership. |
|
Burned into my naked skin, |
|
Onto my outsides, |
|
Into my insides. |
|
It's not even love anymore, |
|
It's just a stain upon my soul. |
|
It's on my skin, it's on my breath, |
|
And I'm ashamed to get undressed, |
|
In front of strangers in case they see, |
|
The telltale signs that you have left all over me. |
|
Goddammit Amy, |
|
You'll always remind me of scars on my arms, |
|
That I know will never fade. |
|
And it's not like it's something I think about each and every day. |
|
I just occasionally catch myself scratching at them, |
|
As if they'd ever go away. |
|
But these telltale signs are here to stay. |
|
And in the end you know that's okay. |
|
And you will always be a part, |
|
Of my patchwork patched up taped up tape deck heart. |
