It’s that sinking feeling of being alone
And it’s the way it makes you screech
And pulls the skin off your bones
And I can’t help but think, as I pick my mouth off the floor;
Will you still know me in a year?
It’s that sinking feeling of being alone
And it’s the way it makes you screech
And pulls the skin off your bones
And I can’t help but think, as I pick my mouth off the floor;
Will you still know me in a year?