i already know how this story goes,
but i'm addicted to relationship ghosts
something always gives in the end
sixty-three days to fix this mistake
too fulfilled by partisan hate
darling, let's not fucking pretend
another premature break-up,
never saw you without make-up
now i know, i know
i'm not worth my weight in stones
and now i beg
for the vultures to pick at my bones
if you were curious as to how i hoped this would go,
we'd be cave diving in the secret places in Mexico
and tickling our babies feet
instead we're separated by not only distance but time
a thousand bottles of cigarettes and empty packs of wine
dazzlingly incomplete
i made my choices, some were skewed
i made mistakes, and so did you
the rest is confusion floating between
but i still feel your eyelashes flutter against my neck
drinking vodka on the beach together dizzy and content
even on dull, overcast, rainy days
watching corny horror movies on rare nights of reprieve
watching your chest rise and fall while you're still asleep
the sun wasn't as bright with its rays
sixty-three days to fix this mistake,
come on, now, honey, there's no time to waste
