Besedila:
Nathanson Matt Still

't need saving after all She sticks in my ribs Almost better than you did Maybe I'm tired or maybe she glows I wonder if you're still defending I wonder if you're still

What a spoiled boy I've been My mouth full, mess, my arms outstretched I've got palm sweat, I'm smiling like I'm competition Well, maybe I'm yours She

Hooray, hooray Here comes the parade Someday, someday I'll spit these thoughts out Before they stain me Finally, they're here for me I've been waiting

I must be glorious, I must be a sight to see Oh, maybe you could comfort me And I come to you strangled In things I'm told are flattering Maybe you could

Trailed by a mess of masking tape Construction paper And the best of intentions He tried to patch up every hole as he went Back and forth and back again

You win, I quit I'm certain you let my hands Wander your hips Just to leave me, desperate now I remember your thread thin arms I remember your hands