With a surgeon's precision and a drunk man's hand

They say I've stopped growing, so I'll do what I can

Nothing ever changes 'til it gets outta hand

Don't panic, this is just routine

Don't panic, this is just routine

You've got roses on the brain, but I'm all wilt

Even if the roses are fake, the plastic is real

And you are not the only one afraid of standing still

Ooh

My misery will bury you

And I'm so sorry that I'm scaring you

But what was I supposed to do

As opposed to loving you?

You've got roses on the brain

But I'm all wilt

I'm all wilt

I'm all wilt

My misery will bury you

And I'm so sorry that I'm scaring you

But what was I supposed to do (Ooh)

If you can't give me something real to hang on to?

I knew it would lead to nothing

But what was I supposed to do

As opposed to loving you?