I run my hand across my skin and expect to feel my old body, it's a shock sometimes This one is heavier, stretched, scarred and permanently bruised And I don't know what I'll see when they flash the lights But lately I'm stuck in the idea that we never fit together very well It's like pushing two wrong puzzle pieces together and realizing it makes a better picture than the one on the box "Robin's better than the perfect girl. She's real." But how many times do I have to make the worst decision? For once I want to be something... Quiet. Content. Restful. How sobering it would be to sit and think "things are good. this is nice. I will never need anything else."