I'm just clinging to our last conversation. You're the only one that touch works with anymore. Score one for you, back turned as I spilled my heart.... score more than you know for me.
On a first name basis with the heartache that speaks your name... when you're not here.
My few friends don't give a fuck, and stopped believing in me months ago. We don't have to hide. They never believed in this anyway. Please stay a hide-away heart this summer.
Prescribe me anything other than you to offset the shakes. We both know there is nothing more, or better, than you in these arms when it comes down to these night terrors.
