There's something empty in the songs
That made me think of you.
Frontmen sing the chorus wrong
And the guitar's not the same.
The sound does come
And fights to belong
But goes the same,
And slips by, it tries,
it saunters along.
I'm unsure in my mind
If they are the same songs.
So I'll try to write my own
But they don't love me the same
They don't know
How to trick my own heart
And rip it with games that
Sneak like secrets into melodies.
They don't know how
To make melodies.
I don't know how
To make melodies.