I don't know whether to laugh or cry
And i don't
know whether to live or die
I kept my love for her locked
deep inside
It cuts like a knife
She's out of my
life
Out of my life, out of my hair
Out of my mind,
there's no love in there
I move on, move on
Dear
god, i wasn't breast fed
And most of my conversations
with men seem to revolve around music
I'm no musician
but the pain has been instrumental
My sense finally tune
the instruments of
Of being lonely, of being lost, of being
loved, of being human
Man i could use a metaphor but i
can't get beyond this s***
I could use someone to talk
to
But most of my conversations with men seem to revolve
around music
I am a poet who composes what the world
proses
And proses what the world composes
I am a poet
who composes what the world proses
And proses what the
world composes
d***ed indescion and cursed pride
I
kept my love for her locked deep inside
And i don't
know what to do
To get it through to you
Get out of my
life tonight
Get out of my life
Out of my life, out of
my hair
Out of my mind, 'cause no lovin' fair
I move on, move on
She had nothing but time on her
hands
Silver rings, turquoise stones and purple nails
I rub my thumb across her palm
A featherbed where slept a
psalm
Yay though i walked, i used to fly, and now we
dance
I watch my toenails blacken and walk a deadened
trance
'til she woke me with the knife edge of her
glance
I have the scars to prove the clock strikes with her
hands
And i don't know what to do
To get it
through to you
And i don't know what to do
To get
it through
Out of my life, out of my hair
Out of my
mind, 'cause no lovin' fair
I move on, move on, i
move on
And i don't
know whether to live or die
I kept my love for her locked
deep inside
It cuts like a knife
She's out of my
life
Out of my life, out of my hair
Out of my mind,
there's no love in there
I move on, move on
Dear
god, i wasn't breast fed
And most of my conversations
with men seem to revolve around music
I'm no musician
but the pain has been instrumental
My sense finally tune
the instruments of
Of being lonely, of being lost, of being
loved, of being human
Man i could use a metaphor but i
can't get beyond this s***
I could use someone to talk
to
But most of my conversations with men seem to revolve
around music
I am a poet who composes what the world
proses
And proses what the world composes
I am a poet
who composes what the world proses
And proses what the
world composes
d***ed indescion and cursed pride
I
kept my love for her locked deep inside
And i don't
know what to do
To get it through to you
Get out of my
life tonight
Get out of my life
Out of my life, out of
my hair
Out of my mind, 'cause no lovin' fair
I move on, move on
She had nothing but time on her
hands
Silver rings, turquoise stones and purple nails
I rub my thumb across her palm
A featherbed where slept a
psalm
Yay though i walked, i used to fly, and now we
dance
I watch my toenails blacken and walk a deadened
trance
'til she woke me with the knife edge of her
glance
I have the scars to prove the clock strikes with her
hands
And i don't know what to do
To get it
through to you
And i don't know what to do
To get
it through
Out of my life, out of my hair
Out of my
mind, 'cause no lovin' fair
I move on, move on, i
move on