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Description
When the wood rots through,
the wine goes to shit.
The satyrs you kept
drink it off, instead
of grinding with their feet.
So you buy colt 45, and red dagger,
and drink those off.
Instead of comforting me.

You scartch the names
of the broken hearted
onto the cellar door.
I clawed and screamed
until it cracked apart,
and drowned in the merlot,
where I set a place for two.

With every last kiss
I walk a little faster.

With every last breathe
on the back of my neck,
there's one more lightbulb
in my house, that I never turn on.

And when you call me up
and let me know, you
no longer have room for me,
suddenly I've no room
for myself anymore.

And when the wood rots through
I get drunk on cheap champagne,
turn off the lights, and
rub my face against the cellar door.

Description
When the wood rots through,
the wine goes to shit.
The satyrs you kept
drink it off, instead
of grinding with their feet.
So you buy colt 45, and red dagger,
and drink those off.
Instead of comforting me.

You scartch the names
of the broken hearted
onto the cellar door.
I clawed and screamed
until it cracked apart,
and drowned in the merlot,
where I set a place for two.

With every last kiss
I walk a little faster.

With every last breathe
on the back of my neck,
there's one more lightbulb
in my house, that I never turn on.

And when you call me up
and let me know, you
no longer have room for me,
suddenly I've no room
for myself anymore.

And when the wood rots through
I get drunk on cheap champagne,
turn off the lights, and
rub my face against the cellar door.