(T)old Stories

I'll put my heart in your hands again
When you stand there with a knife
So
How many times can you kill me
Before I finally die?

We filled up every page
With things we said and did that we cannot erase
But gone are the good days
So what makes me stay
When love stories become tragedies?

I'll put my heart in your hands again
When you stand there with a knife
So
How many times can you kill me
Before I finally die?

They say: 'Boy, someday you will learn to move on
It's just a matter of time'
But please tell me
How much deeper do I have to fall
Before I start to fly?
Start to fly

Motherfucker
The word 'recover'
Cannot exist without the word 'over'
Over and over again
I keep that in mind, keep that in mind
But will I ever finally learn from that shit
And close some chapters sometime?

We filled up every page
With things we said and did
That we cannot erase
But gone are the good days
So why go new ways
When there's beauty in tragedies

I'll put my heart in your hands again
When you stand there with a knife
So
How many times can you kill me
Before I finally die?

I know exactly what it's like to read between the lines
Searching for a sign, without a reason why
So the only thing that I will ever find
Is me late at night, not leavin' the pain behind
And I know the thing I need the most
Is giving up the ghost
But I also know I'm the king of masochists
So

I'll put my heart in your hands again
When you stand there with a knife
So
How many times can you kill me
Before I finally die?

How long do you have to be absent
Before I let you go?
Cause that's the problem with old stories
In the end they're already told