I stay wrapped up in layers to keep warm
Even though I'm not a cold person
It's just poor circulation
You got in my veins because I shot you up like h**n
I hate to let you go after I let you in
But neither of us should be doing this
For once I wanted to ignore
The voice inside my head saying, "Slow down"
He sure seems awfully friendly
He sure seems awfully empty
The closest I'll get to waking up with you is sleeping in your clothes
The closest I'll get to holding your hand is only with my own
The closest I felt to knowing my self was always in our home
But nobody's home
And when I reach for my phone
I know there's no calling you back
How do I get used to that?