If words are weapons I'll keep sharpening my tongue. I hope you feel each cut with every syllable I've sung. And every single word that I've wrote, I've been slowly building this arsenal deep within my throat. I can't seem to hold on to anyone or anything for me than three days at a time. And I'm slowly forgetting sleep and losing my mind.
Why do I only acknowledge my feelings when I'm writing songs? It seems like I'm repeating everything I never wanted to. You were right, when you left a part of me died. But it was only the sadness that I had inside.
So save your breath because this time I'm not taking it away.
You were right. When you left part of me died. It was only the sadness I had inside.
You're the number one reason for most of my moral treason. A hollow shoulder always on the brink of caving in. But don't mistake my desperation for flattery because you aren't and never will be better than me.