I've been drinking screwdrivers.
And while I was at it I had the hammer and nails,
The buckets and the pails,
And every little knut and bolt from here
To there and all the tacks from the living room wall,
And the forks and spoons, I drank them all.
I'm still going, the liquid is still flowing
From my mouth to my heart
To the hole in my stomach,
And I can't keep it down, its coming back up
The sequel won't be good enough.
I've been drinking screwdrivers
And hammering my heart through,
Thinking about you, yes, you,
And I've been scratching glass on my torn up lips
Reading plays without the right scripts.
Thats why the ending seems so sad,
Its the wrong one, the one we weren't supposed to have.
I lost it all, my lines, your lines,
My heart and your story.
At least you can leave and say I was never boring,
Thank me in the end because when you start again,
It will all seem a little bit better than before.
And you have me to thank for it.