pretty, but he don't tell you 'bout it,
winter, scarfs and skirts of velvet,
still drink just like we did in school,
I passed your old house,
down by the cemetery,
club nights in university,
when your friends sing born to run, baby
resist, cause we were born to drift.
if you could see the wreck I am these days,
you'd have no reason to stay away
just hold my hand for a little while,
misery never goes out of style.
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I see you, sometimes in dreams I have
in your bra, in the room you used to rent,
do you ever wish you could wake someone else,
and so I wrote down a list of coroner's
their names their office phone numbers,
to pronounce dead the thing we had
in tombs, ex boyfriends bedrooms.
if you could see the wreck I am these days,
you'd have no reason to stay away
just hold my hand for a little while,
misery never goes out of style.
if you could see the wreck I am these days,
you'd have no reason to stay away
just hold my hand for a little while,
misery never goes out of style.
Photos
I'm your chipped nail paint
I'm the fabric of your coat
you are all I fear
you are words I never wrote
I'm your chipped nail paint
I'm the fabric of your coat
you are all I fear
you are words I never wrote
you are years ago
if you could see the wreck I am these days,
you'd have no reason to stay away
just hold my hand for a little while,
misery never goes out of style.
if you could see the wreck I am these days,
you'd have no reason to stay away
just hold my hand for a little while,
misery never goes out of style.