Fill me, innocently, when I've caved completely If you talk up chances like the ones you'd never take The emptiness has left me more than I want me And the way I stare at your . . (?) . . And I don't consider myself a breadwinner But if your face is drawn long enough then I have no complaints And I look much thinner than when you knew me last winter And I subsist on thoughts of your last kiss and what I lost What keeps you inside?