no matter what ingredients
heartbreak tastes the same
no matter who's stirring the pot while you drown inside
it sounds the same no matter what language it's told in
the international punchline that knocks you to the ground
as i lick my wounds i taste the salt of memory
forbidding myself to spit it out, instead i
savor it, as a means of torturing myself with such a
unbearable flavor. you tasted so good
i can no longer try and convince that
the inside of me is worth knowing,
worth the laughter,
worth savoring like french press coffee.
i can't try to make you turn back after you catch one glimpse
and pretend you didn't see me like a bum begging hungry.
now i've lost my appetite. it's no longer funny.
just pretend you didn't see me.
heartbreak tastes the same
no matter who's stirring the pot while you drown inside
it sounds the same no matter what language it's told in
the international punchline that knocks you to the ground
as i lick my wounds i taste the salt of memory
forbidding myself to spit it out, instead i
savor it, as a means of torturing myself with such a
unbearable flavor. you tasted so good
i can no longer try and convince that
the inside of me is worth knowing,
worth the laughter,
worth savoring like french press coffee.
i can't try to make you turn back after you catch one glimpse
and pretend you didn't see me like a bum begging hungry.
now i've lost my appetite. it's no longer funny.
just pretend you didn't see me.
RSS Feed
