My face, the floor. Your back, the door. My fist in the wall for the third time
Now my car is a wreck. I can’t work the tape deck. All I got are these god-awful mix cassettes that I made for your drives, back when you were still mine. Back when I knew what I was doing with my life. And I don’t think that I can go back
Everybody thinks I’m hooked. Yeah, you read me like a book. Overbaked and undercooked, remember when you held me while I shook?
Sometimes I wish you’d talk of me the way you talk about dying
Now I’m pushing down pills, while I’m pushing up food. Now I’m coughing up blood and singing the Blues. Now you’re pulling me in, while I’m cursing you out. Still got the taste of the floor in the back of my mouth. And I don’t think that I can go back
Everybody thinks I’m hooked. Yeah, you read me like a book. Overbaked and undercooked, remember when you held me while I shook? Yeah, everybody thinks I’m hooked
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