You burn off all the callouses just to blister then repeat
Can't compose yourself when it comes to the heat that he speaks
I've shelled out a lot, shaking your goddamn spell off
From drinking the clock to nine-ball, bet five, corner pocket
To thank you's insufficient to the world your hand drew together for us
Through a camera lens, you saw me as what people would call lovely
I know my moon wouldn't rise into your kingdom
But your paw print to my house still leaves me feeling like a ghost
I'm faint to help viewing past your shoulder. The sweet is overcome with bitter
I, most of the time, reduce to settling for smolder anyway
Upon the porch, we feel the same
Refrain to address 'til you can't
Can't blame withheld invitations
Coping season
Votre force vous manque
Comes and goes, as for you, for about six years, this time this year
I think the best of him too, but you're twenty-four now
And I hope you grow out of his shell
Into that gorgeous old soul
That old gorgeous old dress