I love the way you smoke your cigarettes; hair curled beneath your fingertips, 'no, i don't want you to go yet;' i love the way you whisper my name across your tongue, i'll refrain from saying all the things burning up in my veins
So put it out, put me out, i'll walk down the street with my head buried into the ground; and i'll see you in a couple weeks, as i wait here patiently for nothing, probably; i'll see you soon, but until then, i'll just sing this sad tune, alone, without showing you
I hate the way you smoke your cigarettes; without regret, it's all you got left, i pray to nothing you'll make it 'til the next breath; i hate the way you whisper my name, across the sink, oh, i'm to blame for every mess you've painted with the blood boiling in your aching veins
You put it out, you put yourself out; you walked down the street and you crossed without turning around; and i'll see you in a couple weeks
About six feet deep, i hope you're somewhere sleeping peacefully
I'll see you soon, but until then, i'll be darker than your bedroom, constantly wishing i was laying next to you