Been stricken sick. She could be the cure
And I felt quite sure. I opened every door.
It makes me sick; the things I do for you.
The sh*t that I go through, but I can't make you
secure.
For once make it go away.
Give me what I want and I'll be fine.
I need some attention. You can help me clean my
wounds.
Gotta lot of sewing up to do.
And I know what it's like when they're twisting
your arm.
And it's difficult I'm sure when you don't know
who you are.
But they don't own you though they may seem
to.
But isn't that what it means when you belong?
Isn't that what you wanted all along?
Hadn't you realized you might be wrong?
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