The cat's out of the bag, now we've got your tongue

You march to the beat of your own drum while shooting yourself in the foot all along

The weakest link couldn't pull its weight

And so it breaks, as you wipe the slate clean of me

Put me in my place where I belong

Where I'll sing to you a song so woebegone

Well, I'll try to take the high road as you implode

Couldn't cut me a break, so you cut the brakes on this collision course

"Is there any remorse for this divorce?"

Whispers the backseat driver from the hearse

Change the locks and build up a palisade

Reset the clocks, you're still stuck in retrograde, oh

I digress

We're all a work in progress

Nevertheless

You can dress for success

But to be honest

I'm still not impressed

I grew too big for my britches

You pulled the loose thread and left me in stitches

Won't walk around on your eggshells

My foot's in my mouth, but I hit the ground running

I took the roundabout after things went South

We've both been born again, the final nail in the coffin

An afterthought on the spot, a caveat

Stick to your guns and take a cheap shot

I'll bite the bullet

So sick of overdramatic, erratic, cinematic bad habits

Don't be so sure that less is always more

When you settle for second best

You get lumped in with the rest

Well, I'll try to take the high road as you implode

Couldn't cut me a break, so you cut the brakes on this collision course

"Is there any remorse for this divorce?"

Whispers the backseat driver from the hearse

So sick of overdramatic, erratic, cinematic bad habits