I can't tell you all the times I've prayed for this to end.
We're out of time, no more to spend.
Finish your Chardonnay.
I am down, I am bleeding out.
It's taken all night to say,
You're someone I could live without.
I've got this thorn in my side, but here I am just along for the ride.
If you were to leave me high and dry, I'd give you reassurance that I'd be much obliged.
I can't keep thinking back on the times, singing Boys Don't Cry. The apartment where we both died, laughing to American Pie.
Finish Your Chardonnay.
I am down, I am bleeding out.
It's taken all night to say, you're someone I could live without.
You've been drinking on xans, trying to hold hands.
But let's call it, with lines in the sand. Have we not reasoned with this? Or are you filled with remiss?
I'm just the song that you sing in the shower, and you're just a tape that's been dragging for hours.
This doesn't mean forgetting your cheeks, pressed against mine as we touch and repeat, but there's no more living off covenants. In your twenties, nothing is permanent.
Finish your Chardonnay.
I am down, I am bleeding out.
It's taken all night to say, you're someone I could live without.
Finish Your Chardonnay.
On the ground, where I'm bleeding out. It's taken all year to say, you're someone I could live without.