I'll take Sunday night with a blanket over this old, dark house.
An occasional ruffle, but nothing like you or even this memory of you.
Do you save our pictures like I do?
Home is where you die.
We we're like a lullaby.
You hit like a hammer now.
You used to lean into me.
Now you stand away.
Those wheels just push right by now.
Just a few feet from my life.
If I leaned into their mess.
I'd see you in hell. See you in hell.
You looked straight at me,
then laughed and said so honestly,
"You're so dead now."
As I thought to myself, "Is that really true?"
Because I killed you in my head.
You can too.
There's no second chance.
An occasional ruffle, but nothing like you or even this memory of you.
Do you save our pictures like I do?
Home is where you die.
We we're like a lullaby.
You hit like a hammer now.
You used to lean into me.
Now you stand away.
Those wheels just push right by now.
Just a few feet from my life.
If I leaned into their mess.
I'd see you in hell. See you in hell.
You looked straight at me,
then laughed and said so honestly,
"You're so dead now."
As I thought to myself, "Is that really true?"
Because I killed you in my head.
You can too.
There's no second chance.