Upstaged

I need to be destroyed
Rearrange the pieces of me
If you find something worth salvaging
You know the part about glue holding me together

I've been writing a lot of songs for myself
And I can't be sorry for that
I needed them
They have always told me my songs are sad
And I can't be sorry for that
I needed them
If my heart loses control of the pen
Then I won't ever write a song again

This one is to tell you how much it means
That you have not abandoned me
Even when your skin is so uncomfortable
That you wish you could remove it

I just played all the sad songs to a mostly empty room
I'm sitting on a throne of doubt, and what makes sense is: you

What makes sense is: you

Like the last note of a ballad in an empty hall
Your voice hangs in the malleable air as my pulse begins to slow
Check my pupils, in the low light, cradling my skull
My soul and body are concussed and you're the only cure I know

There is adhesive on every wall, but we are making ourselves a home

I need to be destroyed