Don't you dare call this a feeling,
This is a science, this is an art.

And don't you dare think that I mean this,
you confuse decency for love.

I can see you healing, quickly stitching up your wounds,
but you're no doctor, you're no surgeon, and I'm okay with that.

It's the temporary things that **** us,
this bond was never meant to last.

Like a pianist going deaf,
we slowly loose all we have left.