I thought I’d try to face today
but your face has other plans for me
and hindsight has a way
of severing my spinal chord
Now this ghost of you is the thread
that has sewn my heart to yesterday
and I’ll think of you for days on end
but it never gets me anywhere
and though I got what I deserved
I still marvel at the mess that I’ve become
And how can I get past you
when I can’t even get out of my own way
I’m constantly crippled by fear of change
and I’m drunk more than I’d like to be
Yeah, I’m the king of self-medication
and self-fulfilling prophecies
I suppose I never said, “I’m sorry”
but I never meant to fucking hurt you
Yes, it’s a hollow and half-assed apology
but effort has never been my thing