It would end much differently than you think
with my hands like guns and crashing sounds
because sometimes it feels like the song never ends
tattoo, tattoo these words on your wrists
guilt ridden nightmares and promises made
phonecalls and atrophy
break me so i cannot speak
or call after you
and you'd rush to hold your ears
(to the crashing sounds)
'cause sometimes it's more than you never
I can't recall the last time I said im sorry, and meant it.
sitting there, singing out "i miss you."
"i miss you so."
You were right about where you stood when i fell...
(holding on to)
And there you were screaming out
'this is your fault! this is your fault!'
You were holding on to your ears
as you threw yourself out the window
as i convinced you this is your fault.
