And she's killin' me again.
It's the same old tale.
I've been murdered a million times.
Some how I keep coming back to life.
Same mountain, I continue to climb.
And I'm not as confused as I am considerate.
Back and forth between my cigarette and her clitoris.
I'm workin' on both like it's nobody's business.
Such an odd way to gain god's forgiveness.
And all of my friends believe I should forgive myself.
They insist that I've done nothing wrong.
But I'm not convinced 'till I finish every bottle on the shelf.
And I've run out of reasons to write my songs.
And all of her friends think I'm holdin' her back.
It's beautiful, but they don't know the half.
They're barely aware of a fraction.
Blinded by dramatics.
Ignoring all the passion.