Please please don't say it, our support is slowly breaking.
This isn't what we planned on darling - slowly crawling up the rope you left out for me to hang on.
My heart is a treehouse; climb up and knock the secret knock for me.
You've done it once before, been knocking on my door.
Please open up what I've been waiting for.
And these scars are sarcastic remarks only for the punchline
(only for the punchline baby).
But in due time we'll put to rest all our fears of emptiness
so grab a rope and roll it up because I'd climb a branch and break a leg.
Well at least I tried.
Penance is everything.
You'd follow everyone but,
remember the house that we built?
Remeber the trees that used to swing us?
Consistency is killing me,
I'm sick of facing the cut.
(This isn't what we planned on darling,
this isn't what we fought for, no.
But even though we're up here, darling,
the leaves won't catch us falling.)