I'm sick of trying to apologize
And I'm sick of trying
To make things better
All I ever do
Is make things worse
And I'm
Sick. Sick. Sick.
But it's still the only drug for me
And it still gets me high
So I'll keep vomiting up excuses
To talk to you
And. And. And.
There's always something more
It never ends.
Which is just what I said to you before.
I should've known I wouldn't give up.
I should've known before I tried.
It was at first what I told you.
I should've known I hadn't lied.
Our conversation has been dwindling
Much to my distaste
Infrequent words become more so
But they still put me to sleep.
And if I leave out all the rest
I can pretend you said goodnight to me
Once more, I can dream the past.