Gloworm.

You were the one who taught me there could be one too many.
Giving everything you wanted's just as bad as not giving any.

I never knew you.

In the dark, we don't exist. We're all teeth and fingertips.
And I said the past had been hard on me, so you gave it to me that way.
But distanced, didn't realize, next day wouldn't stay.
Last night looked me in the face and swore you weren't that way.

And oh, we played it safe. But the safety didn't lock.
The calliber was full, and the bullets weren't dodged.

And it doesn't mean much, but, Jesus; can you hear me? I'm hopeless and I'm bleeding.
And while you say "this is the life", I'm creating one.

We treated each other like a loaded gun.

Guarded, and ruthless for no reason. Dropped me drunken, danger treason.
And I've cried an ocean for you- said "pick a number," no matter what, my number's up.
The damage is done and I'll spend forever cleaning it up.

And I'm sick of lying about being strong.
I'm sick of lying about not caring what you do.
I'm sick of being the bad guy.
Underneath your lies, I don't hate you.

"What next?" while your out with her. But atleast we're alive. Could be worse.

And underneath all your lies, I guess I don't really blame you.
I'm kind of a fuck up. Might as well use me for that.
She said "what else are you good for?".
And it never meant much, but God, I hope you're happy.
Hopeful and beaming.

And while you say "This is the life", I'm creating one.

We treated each other like a loaded gun. We lost our heads.
(Hey, Pistol, did you hear I'm packing?)
I've got a bullet all my own.
And we treated each other like...