Sat with an old flame from my childhood home We make a toast to being lonely, because it’s better than drinking alone And wash our hands of your cold company ‘Cause it’s what we really need
I would be happier knowing this means something But you’re writhing at home all alone So there’s no fucking meaning at all
I blacked out over and over and over
There’s a blood stain on my collar line It reminds me why I’m hopeful, and I notice it sometimes When I’m bleeding out I colour in your selfish doubt I blacked it out