lover, please, do not fall to your knees
for me
i was happy before i met you
see, my sister teases, tells me
i used to believe this and that
i was real, real, real
short, but i smiled a lot
she knows the pictures i clutch
and says i cried a good little
but damn how locked hearts break a lot
and at nineteen i went crazy and
stopped believing, in everlasting love, and
realized i’d been staring at empty chairs
thinking of the ghosts that once sat there
of the ghosts, of the ghosts, of the ghosts
of the ghosts that broke my heart before i met you
however, i’m better now, but i’m not
at all well, so i still do that sometimes
now lover, listen how i don’t
cry good anymore, how i break bad
and how this shit’s my jam! so please
do not fall to your knees for me