A thousand words won't **** this hurt,
A million sorry's won't bring you back.
You own my heart,
My love,
My soul.
You own this tattoo body,
And every imperfection,
The ones I've made and the ones of from God.
You saved this soul, for as long as you could.
Even minds have an expiration date.
When I lost him my shelf life,
Was cut in a quarter, and now I'm at number 24.
I only need to be a little older,
Then I'll have the courage to settle the score.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 6:16 AM UTC
A thousand words won't **** this hurt,
A million sorry's won't bring you back.
You own my heart,
My love,
My soul.
You own this tattoo body,
And every imperfection,
The ones I've made and the ones of from God.
You saved this soul, for as long as you could.
Even minds have an expiration date.
When I lost him my shelf life,
Was cut in a quarter, and now I'm at number 24.
I only need to be a little older,
Then I'll have the courage to settle the score.
