This Christmas isn't going to get drunk and ruin itself
I get scared when you're upset. You're dis-repaired, and I'm abrupt. You take the means and ring them out bone dry. Is this how it feels in letting go? A cacophony of candid notes. No space to breath. Its pushing on my spine. And I'm bone dry.
If I can't speak then I won't choke. If you don't mean, then I don't know. I hook complacency up like a drip to my arm to force me from anger so I won't do harm. I'm just confused because I'm slow. Was it for me, or am I wrong. So put the speech like medicine onto my tongue, Because that's where I'm from.
And I want yesterday I want yesterday. When I was young. And I want yesterday I want yesterday. When I was dumb.