Hit The Lights. Loose Lips Sink Ships. Zeneszám

this frame once held my favorite picture

but now it's empty, now it's broken

and that's how you left my chest

hallowed out by your hands

where you dug a grave and laid

your memory to rest



i hate the way you say i told you so

this is for all the wilted pedals on the floor

this is for a waste of a dozen roses maybe more



this should have ended with the kiss

that you left on someone else's lips

which turned my heart inside out

you left it looking much the same

a motionless mass of muscle and vain

as i clean up this mess you've made



so as i sing you to sleep

i hope my ghost haunts your dreams

lost in your memory

as bad as it seems




i hate the way you say i told you so

this is for all the wilted pedals on the floor

this is for a waste of a dozen roses maybe more

this is for how you never deserved

nothing more from a rose than the thorns



so twist the knife

fashion me counter clockwise

turn back time

forget you never were mine

(with this knife i will cut

the last piece of you from me

the razor blades will separate

any connections we've made

but there's complications

in the operation

that keeps me from forgetting your face

but come tomorrow i'll rid the sorrow

from within my heart which you plagued)