Prostrating in bed
Miscounting sheep
I was worried about the way that
You had felt and
Then you told me
Your cynical apprehensive sensitivity
Has pushed me
Into the mid-North American sea
So yeah
It’s over
But maybe I’m
I’m not so messed up
Actively innocent
You are the jaded one
I’m sorry for the hurtful sentiment
In the last chorus
I know that you meant the best
By being brutally honest
We all want acceptance
Of our faults and wrongs and insecurities
And my ill-fittingly designed upholstery
I pull my last hair out
Cause if I’m really that messed up
My active innocence is becoming undone
Am I really that messed up?
Okay, I believe you
I need help sometimes
Losing my fucking mind
Am I who I want?
I’m on the borderline
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