They like to tell me they're all different
But they all talk in tongues
And I like the way she walks away
When she's on her way to fill up my whiskey
With the ice she chipped off her heart

Am I seeing into you, or are you as transparent as your father
Is it a dead star I taste on your lips
Getting caught up in what you could have been
Getting caught up in what I could have been
And what you left
When you stumbled out with half your clothes this morning

You're the kind of girl who makes me disgusted by my own love songs
And you may be good at flirting, but you're no poet
You left this morning and left the door open
And I haven't worked up the courage to get out of bed and close it

Sick of gamblin'
When you get sick at the end of the night, and you just leave all your tokens in the money robot
Maybe it's somebody else's night to get lucky, you think
I've got a number written on my hand, and I hope it gets washed away
Because moments like you don't ever stay as long as the pain