Sat with an old flame from my childhood home

We make a toast to being lonely, because it’s better than drinking alone

And wash our hands of your cold company

‘cause it’s what we really need

I would be happier knowing this means something

But you’re writhing at home all alone

So there’s no fucking meaning at all

I blacked out over and over

There’s a blood stain on my collar line

It reminds that I’m hopeful, and I notice it sometimes

When I’m bleeding out

I colour in your selfish doubt

I black it out

I blacked out over and over and over