Fine Tooth Comb

I've been combing through my feelings with a fine tooth comb
And every little knot leads me back to you

It's the growing pains of saturday mornings
Dedicated to fulfilling a foreign femininity
I sit with my shoulders between your knees for hours
Wishing for a moment alone
I just want to be alone

It's the surprising breathe of fresh air
You're not like the local boys
And i'm not like the local girls
But i am just faking it
And i can't help but wonder if you're just faking it to
We're putting on a show for two coffee cups and a crying baby
And i cannot tell if i like you
Or if i just like the idea of you

It's the sentimentality of growing up
And growing out of the places we used to call home
But now i carry home with me everywhere that i go
And i feel it roaring inside of me like a lamborghini
Or maybe it's more like a broken cassette
I think it might be more like a broken cassette

I've been combing through my feelings with a fine tooth comb
And every little knot leads me back to you



Credits
Writer(s): Sare Ale
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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