Understand
I should've but I didn't
I would've but I won't
I'm canning "can't's" in cans
And all the jams
Are Pandoras made at home
Now, clearly I speak slowly
So you can understand
But I'm blending words again
They're watercolor puddles in my hands
You don't understand
Say I don't paint a picture well
Well, pictures are for looking
They can never really tell
I see and know my meaning
It's right behind my eyes
But I fumble with the zipper
And let my shell be my disguise
I'm halfway to forgotten
That statue stuck in stone
And I've always understood
That I'm too good
At being on my own
You don't understand
Say I don't paint a picture well
Well, pictures are for looking
They can never really tell
I've got maybes to the brim
Potential somedays, unacted whims
They line all my pockets
Like dead lovers packed in lockets
I'll be a perfectly tragic old lady
How romantic
How lazy
It's my fault that I'm lonely
I should've said goodbye
I fitting sevens in sixes
And when they pinch, I cry
I'll brush it off on Tuesday
And wring it out next week
And once the weather's warmer
I'll kiss you on the cheek
If you don't understand
You're not listening
I would've but I won't
I'm canning "can't's" in cans
And all the jams
Are Pandoras made at home
Now, clearly I speak slowly
So you can understand
But I'm blending words again
They're watercolor puddles in my hands
You don't understand
Say I don't paint a picture well
Well, pictures are for looking
They can never really tell
I see and know my meaning
It's right behind my eyes
But I fumble with the zipper
And let my shell be my disguise
I'm halfway to forgotten
That statue stuck in stone
And I've always understood
That I'm too good
At being on my own
You don't understand
Say I don't paint a picture well
Well, pictures are for looking
They can never really tell
I've got maybes to the brim
Potential somedays, unacted whims
They line all my pockets
Like dead lovers packed in lockets
I'll be a perfectly tragic old lady
How romantic
How lazy
It's my fault that I'm lonely
I should've said goodbye
I fitting sevens in sixes
And when they pinch, I cry
I'll brush it off on Tuesday
And wring it out next week
And once the weather's warmer
I'll kiss you on the cheek
If you don't understand
You're not listening
Credits
Writer(s): Chloe Elyse Jones
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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