Sit with me, guarantee I'll over-share Then in your head I’m not even there
I hang onto every word you say it’s just the way this operates.
The chances evade me I always see them coming
but I don’t let them meet me
-- I won’t let that eat me
The cliff of my throat is sore for tears in the interest of reaping the benefits
of you not caring about me -- you don’t care about me
I'm awfully close to wanting to beg ‘God please change it, you won’t regret it’ But it’s alright, I’ll just sit tight
and wait for something to fall in my lap that doesn't evoke: 'How did you hurt like that?'
(Push the ouch under the bed // Right below my tired head A dreamcatcher will counteract // All the apathy you’ve said)