march

I want to cut off all my hair
And go out walkin' in the cold
Carve myself a new hole
And talk just like before
I want to starve myself of blankets
And sleep here on the floor
Oh god don't let this be love
Stop calling me your lover
We'll stop talking on the phone
'Cause such a pretty voice
Just makes me miss the dial tone
So I'm gonna rip out my own heart
Who so clearly has betrayed
My quest for being lonely and my
Promise of the same
Well if I had a choice
And I'm only partly sure I do
I'd pack up all my things and I'd
Leave town and I'd leave you
Take up a residence
Just off the coast and
Drown a year or two
Oh god don't let this be love