Waiting For

Caked in god and melancholy
I grew up by killing stars
When everything's a slot machine
I bruise the sky and make it dark

You vowed marriage to your boyfriend
I was in the hospital
Virgin blue with bloody fingers
You're the one I wish I called

I could never be your husband
Clean your vomit off the floor
Triple cancer, gun in hand
What the hell are you waiting for?

I hope you learn to ride his bike
Imagine that his hands are mine
While you crash into the pavement
I turn in my grave at the same damn time

I could never be your husband
Clean your vomit off the floor
Triple cancer, gun in hand
What the hell are you waiting for?

Politely assign me to the corner
Shoot me like a rabid dog
Happy ending, horror story
I'm the one you'll always want

I could never be your husband
Clean your vomit off the floor
Triple cancer, gun in hand
What the hell are you waiting for?

Can we get that a little louder?



Credits
Writer(s): Mary Hyland Mcquillan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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