Did you leave her house in the middle of the night? Did you wish you'd put up more of a fight, when she said it was too much? Do you wish you could still touch her? It's just a question
Dear reader, burn all the files, desert all your past lives, and if you don't recognize yourself that means you did it right
Broken and blue, so I called off the troops, that was the night I nearly lost you, I really thought I'd lost you
It was one drink after another fuckin' politics and gender roles and you're not sure and I don't know, hot swept away in the grey I just may like to have a conversation
The mark they saw on my collarbone The rust that grew between telephones The lips I used to call home So scarlet, it was maroon
And maybe it's the past that's talking, screaming from the crypt telling me to punish you for things you never did, so I justified it
I was supposed to sweat you out, in search of glorious happenings of happenstance on someone else's playground
