You're old news the way you act the way you flip your mood swings so briefly and stumble back to consciousness I can't believe what you said, but I know some day you'll be here in this box that I made for you it's almost too soon for this feeling of weaker eyes conceating my loathing for you it's all too close to the truth sorry I slept through alarm clocks watching me listened to everything not exactly what I used to be empty bottles clouded minds jars with no lids in sight it's old news your personality seems to lack something more then a smile shrugging back at me how do your shoulders hold that had? I guess that it must be lighter than air can you spare please your sympathy? it's awfully intriguing on how you keep blaming me pathetically you're all washed out and torn your name makes me shake my shirt won't come clean it's all in the advice that you take it's all in your head
Spare me the Couch by A Trunk Full Of Dead Bodies | Lyricster