Why must I feel numb, done what I've done
I've taken my cues, what I'm supposed to do
Now heave the issue, the narrative's doomed
When I hold the pen, it's throttling you
You never liked me when drunk
I start to believe you never liked me at all
And so I agree, and I'll say "Fuck you"
'Cause I know if I don't, I'll probably say
Something stupid and true
I stand just out of reach of your fists
And take myself away again, pretty slim
And dance around the subject, a figure of eight
Describe all the parts of me I'm yet to break
Count all the parts of me I'm yet to break
I count all the parts of me I'm yet to break
You kiss me like it was your job
So tender and carefully, teeth before tongue
Not in the way that the romantics do
But with the grace of a workplace HR dispute
You know, I don't need much more
But wanna be mine, wanna be yours
You know, I don't need much more
I wanna be mine, wanna be yours
I take you for granted
Because the alternative's far more alarming
