i think i'll do nothing for a long, long time unclench my wrist, my songs are barely mine my truce are subtle, and when i sing i barely rhyme oh shaky lips, my limbs, sweet stirring of your thighs in my eyes, i can't lie i'm not fine i could die make a list of things i miss to fill that void guess you can't buy back your time (refrain from mine) don't fold me in your baby's lullaby.