I'll miss the feeling
Of drunk on the weekends
Up on the ceiling
Before it's all alone
Something is leaking
I'm not the one you used to know
I hate revealing
The scars aren't physical
Honesty, it breaks you up
Because sharper knives
Make cleaner cuts
And I've begun to eat my tail
I hate being vulnerable
Well the more you say
The less I feel
The magic doesn't last
And the music becomes math
All yours
All yours
All yours
All yours
On Monday, I drove you to the beach
So your ashes could turn into sand
On Monday, I drove you to the beach
So your ashes could turn into sand
All yours
All yours
All yours
All yours
All yours
All yours
All yours
All yours
All yours