I know you live in the world
I know you do what you can
but the way you turn tight corners
seems to shorten my lifespan
it's not the weather I love
it's just the shape of the sky
but you shrink it to a keyhole
everytime you wander by
and I can barely miss
the package in your hands which is
my heart
you pack the powder so tight
you wrap it up in some foil
now it's not so much the rebound
as it is the sharp recoil
I've come to fear from this
undetonated bomb which is
my heart (which is my heart)
which is breaking again
I don't want to tell you what to do
I just wish you'd do it once without me asking you
I don't want to tell you how to act
I just wish the story that you told me hadn't lacked
the proper emphasis
on what I've got in mind which is
my heart (which is my heart)
which is breaking again