Patch me up,
Like the quilt that grandma made,
The thought, oh bless her soul, it brings dismay.
And I wish,
Words like that would be erased,
And my heart feels like a hole,
Who's rent was never paid.
When I go away,
Will you stay away,
With or without,
in flood or in drought?
Would you brush it off,
like you never cared at all?
Or would you hurt inside,
from these feeling of withdrawal from you and I.
This pack is not enough to last,
The stress that I am under;
And they say people change,
but my joints all bend the same.
If you ask me I'll let you know,
I pulled my hair out trying to make this work,
and you know it's true.
When I go away,
Will you stay away,
With or without,
in flood or in drought?
Would you brush it off,
like you never cared at all?
Or would you hurt inside,
from these feeling of withdrawal from you and I.
From these feeling of withdrawal from you and I.