I look at you and I don’t feel him
Your cold stare, tequila talking
The way the tales roll off your tongue
As if you were an honest man
And me your aching story keeper

So much hesitation but I’m no fool
From the taste of you, I know the verdict
You take my hand and it’s too late
Call me by my name, let me swallow your pain

The aftermath is something to let burn
Your touch feels like something sinister
I’m craving the feeling of filling the void
Maybe it’s real, maybe I like to hurt