Why must I feel numb, done what I've done

I've taken my cues, what I'm supposed to do

Now heave the issue, the narrative's doomed

When I hold the pen, it's throttling you

You never liked me when drunk

I start to believe you never liked me at all

And so I agree, and I'll say "Fuck you"

'Cause I know if I don't, I'll probably say

Something stupid and true

I stand just out of reach of your fists

And take myself away again, pretty slim

And dance around the subject, a figure of eight

Describe all the parts of me I'm yet to break

Count all the parts of me I'm yet to break

I count all the parts of me I'm yet to break

You kiss me like it was your job

So tender and carefully, teeth before tongue

Not in the way that the romantics do

But with the grace of a workplace HR dispute

You know, I don't need much more

But wanna be mine, wanna be yours

You know, I don't need much more

I wanna be mine, wanna be yours

I take you for granted

Because the alternative's far more alarming