We’re scattered.

In the beginning of December, it was 70 degrees and I thought of you.
Dear, I say, I hurt, I hurt. I hurt so much for you.
Dear, you say, you say, you hurt you hurt. You hurt so much for her.
You can’t have her, oh, you hurt. I can’t have you, oh, I hurt.
We’re scattered on this earth, pieces disheveled, sharpened and broken and scattered on this earth.
I tried to pick up the pieces dear, she did and I did. She tried, I tried.
We both gave up, but you stuck with her.


We’re scattered, babe, piece by piece on this earth,
she can’t fix me, what makes you think she would be able to fix you?