Is this an outer-body experience
Or a pretentious subsistence
There’s a dog barking at my built-up wall
Forming a pattern of careful consistence

I’ve never broken a heart but
I’ve broken every plan I’ve chosen to mess with
I’m slowly downing this regret and distrust like it’s freshly poured absinth

The sickness comes right away, which I oddly knew to begin with
I say that I’ll change someday, but I think I’ll probably stay this way

After all, I’m happy
When the salt isn’t in my wounds
After I’ll, I’m happy
When I’m sitting here with you