Fill my diary of a void, or it would be a pity

You wouldn't change a thing, but you would trade with me

You wouldn't change a thing, but you would trade with me

Skinned knees, cartoon quicksand, I swear they're pretending

They're counting every minute up until the ending

They're counting every minute up until the ending

Split lips and ashy hands

Split lips and ashy hands

Will I tire like a dog of something to tend to

Or will it mend me to try to mend you?

Did she end where I began, like nothing men do?

Or will it mend me to try to mend you?

Far away, the tiny hands are ready to fight me

I turn my back, but she looks just like me

I turn my back, but she looks just like me

The other way's a lonely land of laptops and Vespas

What other way to be, the mother of all questions?

What other way to be, the mother of all questions?

Split lips and ashy hands

Split lips and ashy hands

Will I tire like a dog of something to tend to

Or will it mend me to try to mend you?

Did she end where I began, like nothing men do?

Did she end where I began

Or will it mend me?

I've never been empty of flesh and blood to bend to

Staying put won't help me, holding out, I end you

They're saying happiness like this, now don't it even tempt you?

I end where you begin, or, holding out, I end you

Will I tire like a dog of something to tend to

Or will it mend me to try to mend you?

Did she end where I began, like nothing men do?

Or will it mend me to try to mend you?