I bet it felt like a stabbing

Dagger in the side of your throat

Two crooners violently singing in tandem

Racing for the highest note

I’m not a rounding error or a number you’re carrying

This is the sum of every song on the B-side

I wanna open a jazz club

Haunted by the solos cut short

The bones of third and fourth unfinished verses

Buried underneath the floor

I’m not a rounding error or a number you’re carrying

This is the sum of every song on the B-side

Run! Run! Get to the hook again!

Run! Run! Get to the hook again!

Run! Run! Get to the hook if we

End the song, I’ll be gone

I’m not a rounding error or a number you’re carrying

This is the sum of every song on the B-side