|
Trace a line |
|
Down my arm |
|
Trace a line |
|
Down |
|
You'll be the end of me |
|
You'll be the end of me |
|
No one's here |
|
And nothing's new |
|
Trace a line |
|
From me to you |
|
You'll be the end of me |
|
You'll be the end of me |
|
Getting drunk in taxicabs |
|
And writing names on backs of hands |
|
And figuring how to get to you |
|
We're making room for alibis |
|
When something tells me telling lies |
|
Is only ever trying to be true |
|
Will we never ever learn |
|
That things could go from bad to worse |
|
And worst of all we'd love it if they did |
|
Knowing what you said to me |
|
Beneath your breath so blatantly |
|
Be careful now |
|
We're camping in the corner of the room |
|
You'll be the end of me |
|
You'll be the end of me |
