Tim de Vil - Still Life With Pears

What if that feeling
We've been sick with
Can't be cured by having kids
And it's genetic
And they get it
Would God forgive us
If we don't get pet insurance
If we don't take out a mortgage
If we never get that 'scrip' to the New Yorker
Are we adults, yet, kid
Or just the shape of 'em

I don't know
There's a lot
I don't
I don't know
There's a lot
I don't

It's been years since I've stripped
For fish sticks and cigarettes
And tried to hide my cryin' on the phone
But, still, my stomach gets sick
When I hit the frozen food section at one AM
If bliss is just willingness to bend
Then I'll break before I find my way home
And I don't need friends
To get sad-drunk with
I'm learning how to be fucked up
Alone

I don't know
There's a lot
I don't

I swear on my grave
One of these days
I'm gonna make you feel safe
Safe as houses
I swear on my grave
One of these days
I'm gonna make you feel safe

I don't know
There's a lot
I don't

I'm scared shitless
At any moment
I'm gonna wake up
And find the old me
Or even worse
He never left
And I have been lying or blinded or
Too dumb to notice
He's under my bed

I swear on my grave
One of these days
I'm gonna make you feel safe
Safe as houses
I swear on my grave
One of these days
I'm gonna make
You feel safe

Written by:
Justin Robbins

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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