Spo-

ken

from

the

mouth

of

the

for-

get-

ta-

ble

one

Who

am

i

told

be

told,

who

am

I

to

tell?

I

ne-

ver

thought

of

my-

self

as

un-

a-

pproa-

cha-

ble

But

I

am

sha-

ken,

I

am

lost

and

for-

got-

ten

Spo-

ken

from

the

mouth

of

the

re-

gret-

ta-

ble

one

My

faults

and

fail-

ures,

they

fol-

low

like

sha-

dows

I

woke

up

to

your

eyes

and

e-

lec-

tric

ci-

ty

signs

Mi-

le

mar-

ker

one

hun-

dred

eigh-

ty

five

You've

mas-

tered

the

art

Of

pre-

ten-

ding

you’re

some-

thing

you’re

not

Ree-

ling

from

your

words

They

re-

sound

in

my

head

No

dis-

trac-

tions

to

make

them

stop

If

I

was

smar-

ter,

I

would

know

how

to

fix

this

If

I

were

stron-

ger,

I

would

say

some-

thing

more

dir-

ect

If

I

was

smar-

ter,

I

would

know

how

to

fix

this

If

I

were

stron-

ger,

I

would

say

some-

thing

more

dir-

ect

If

you

went

a-

way

for

the

sum-

mer,

I’d

feel

a-

lone

here

It’s

a

hard

one

left

to

show

me

in

slow

brea-

thing

When

light

hits

frac-

tured

eyes

hard

it’s

re-

lie-

ving

When

you

went

home

I

was

free,

a-

lone,

and

I

felt

dum-

ber

and

coo-

ler