Misery, oh, won’t you keep me company, oh please? I know you hate the way I drag my feet.
Why does this conversation always seem to take the backseat? Why does the littlest confrontation always seem to make you angry? You make me wish I was somebody else.
Inconsistent chemicals have brought me to my knees. You know you love to walk away, I hate to watch you leave.
Why does this hesitation feel so heavy? And why’s it seem like every time I go to take my prescription it’s always empty? You make me wish I was someone else. Why does this conversation always seem to take the backseat?
You love to walk away; I hate to watch you leave. You love to walk away; I hate to watch you walk away.
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