|
You're barely, barely back home |
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Like a little fly |
|
You're like a little fly stuck in the window |
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Dying to get inside |
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What if you do? |
|
Would you go back outside? |
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Out where they'll crush you with a paper folded |
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Just to see you die |
|
Slice a bit of the belly you love |
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Better if you're only |
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Barely holding on |
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Yeah, you're holding on |
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But you went in the house |
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To an open mouth |
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And seeing things for no reason at all |
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Just to have it fall |
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It's never enough' |
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Cause you wanted too much |
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And sooner or later you're gonna find out |
|
The limits to your guts |
|
If it's a roof for you |
|
Why can't you let it be? |
|
I'm sick of hope it's true |
|
That deep inside you're really |
|
Only, only, only, only, only, only, yeah |
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So patient, so kind |
|
It's never easy to tell |
|
If you're playing with my mind |
|
You hide your itchy fingers well |
|
And are you really awake |
|
Or just afloat at the top? |
|
You keep living on season, it's barely enough |
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Do you wanna just sell it off? |
|
Do you wanna just stop |
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In the back of the room |
|
You keep asking me away for a minute or two |
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Oh, what was she supposed to do, yeah |
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Baby, I won't blame you |
|
If you go and find something better to do |
|
We call it moving on |
|
You can call it moving on |
|
So patient, so kind |
|
It's never easy to tell |
|
If you're playing with my mind |
|
You hide your itchy fingers well |
|
Barely, barely back home |
|
Like a little fly |
|
You're like a little fly stuck in the window |
|
Dying to get inside |
|
What do you do? |
|
Would you go back outside? |
|
Out where they'll crush you with a paper folded |
|
Just to see you die, just to see you die |
|
Just to see you die, just to see you die |
|
Just to see you die, just to see you die |
|
Just to see you die, just to see you die |
|
Just to see you die |
|
So patient, so kind |
|
It's never easy to tell |
|
If you're playing with my mind |
|
You hide your itchy fingers well |
|
So patient, so kind |
|
It's never easy to tell |
|
That you're playing with my mind |
|
You lick your itchy fingers well, yeah |
