Algebra Suicide - Thank You | Текст песни

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• Algebra Suicide
• Thank You

Thank you for the headache. It was lovely.
The stars were out that night. I spoke to them. They offered no stunning information.
The best part of being sick is the cure: a pinch, a shot, or simply nothing for a long, long time.
Thank you for not killing me with your car. That was very thoughtful.
Now, you're welcome to my couch, my cocktails, to any trivia about me,
Though I won't say which is true or not.
The best part about morning is that time moves so slowly and sin whispers sweetly in our ears,
Begging for wild abandon.
Thank you for not hating me. That's very big of you. There's nothing much to hate or fear.
I have no sleeves, no pockets, leaving no secret hiding places
Except my head, my heart, and other such tiny empty holes.
The best part about being coy is the trouble it might cause while you remain totally innocent.
Thank you. Thank you for not giving me a hard time.
That would have been so very easy

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