| It was so cold in the top room
|
| But I didn’t wanna risk waking you
|
| So I let it sit in my feet and my fingers
|
| With everything I burn, the dull ache, it lingers
|
| And I don’t know if I’ll be able to complete
|
| What other people do each day without noticing
|
| And I don’t know if I’ll be able to compete
|
| With the way I feel these days about almost everything
|
| One bad week for a life of breathing
|
| A few nights lay awake for an eternity of sleeping
|
| I wanna feel it now
|
| Cough me in, breathe me in and spit me out
|
| I am someone in your passenger’s seat
|
| I’m your punching bag
|
| I will let you kick the shit outta me
|
| And I’ll hold your hand
|
| I’ll be whatever you tell me to be
|
| And I’ll understand
|
| Breathing out cold air in my own house
|
| And wondering why I could not afford a solution to that by now
|
| And I’m sure everything seems romantic
|
| In reality, it’s uncomfortable to deal with
|
| Falling asleep every other afternoon
|
| To the sound of being alone and having nothing to do
|
| And I’m sure moving in straight away made you feel safe
|
| But it probably wasn’t great for my mental state
|
| And one bad week for a life of breathing
|
| A few nights lay awake for an eternity of sleeping
|
| Wanna feel it now
|
| Cough me in, breathe me in and spit me out
|
| I am someone in your passenger’s seat
|
| I’m your punching bag
|
| I will let you kick the shit outta me
|
| While I hold your hand
|
| I’ll be whatever you tell me to be
|
| And I’ll understand
|
| If I can’t see
|
| A future for you without evil
|
| A future for me without you will
|
| Only make it better
|
| So I start hoping
|
| Then I stop smoking
|
| Because the ducks are in a row and
|
| This is my best chance to get my shit together
|
| When I turned twenty-five, I was terrified
|
| Still haven’t learnt to do the dishes
|
| My mum was my age when I became alive
|
| So I stopped hoping and I quit smoking
|
| Because the writing’s on the wall
|
| And it’s been there for a while
|
| And it sure is nice to remember things, yeah
|
| I am someone in your passenger’s seat
|
| I’m your punching bag
|
| I’ll let you kick the living shit outta me
|
| And I’ll hold your hand
|
| I am whatever you tell me to be
|
| And I understand |