We took the safe way
Hedging bets at stop lights
Heckling at the very, very pregnant
Pre-pubescent silence
With shaky steps down the frozen food isle
Angles calculated, proximity an issue
Even then I could feel the temperature drop near your shoulders
Shrugging off slices of slices of passive agressive cuisine
I saw it flare up when I asked to use baby basil
My darling Bartleby, of course you would prefer not
So, stuffing feta, we signal a retreat to starchy shell
Ignoring the flare of your nostrils
Flooding instead tear ducts with bad jokes
Clouding your judgement enough to pilfer a glance
I haven't heard your smile in decades
Haven't on the walk, haven't in the park, haven't at dusk, haven't in the nicotine rush
Nor within this flood of your bone prints
Stored safe-a-way in my skin
Blue Odeur - Bartleby, the Stylist Lyrics
Blue Odeur - Bartleby, the Stylist Lyrics
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We took the safe way
Hedging bets at stop lights
Heckling at the very, very pregnant
Pre-pubescent silence
With shaky steps down the frozen food isle
Angles calculated, proximity an issue
Even then I could feel the temperature drop near your shoulders
Shrugging off slices of slices of passive agressive cuisine
I saw it flare up when I asked to use baby basil
My darling Bartleby, of course you would prefer not
So, stuffing feta, we signal a retreat to starchy shell
Ignoring the flare of your nostrils
Flooding instead tear ducts with bad jokes
Clouding your judgement enough to pilfer a glance
I haven't heard your smile in decades
Haven't on the walk, haven't in the park, haven't at dusk, haven't in the nicotine rush
Nor within this flood of your bone prints
Stored safe-a-way in my skin
Hedging bets at stop lights
Heckling at the very, very pregnant
Pre-pubescent silence
With shaky steps down the frozen food isle
Angles calculated, proximity an issue
Even then I could feel the temperature drop near your shoulders
Shrugging off slices of slices of passive agressive cuisine
I saw it flare up when I asked to use baby basil
My darling Bartleby, of course you would prefer not
So, stuffing feta, we signal a retreat to starchy shell
Ignoring the flare of your nostrils
Flooding instead tear ducts with bad jokes
Clouding your judgement enough to pilfer a glance
I haven't heard your smile in decades
Haven't on the walk, haven't in the park, haven't at dusk, haven't in the nicotine rush
Nor within this flood of your bone prints
Stored safe-a-way in my skin
Writer: Laura Bardsley
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid