Populace In Two

Your memories will always haunt me like a ghost To put it nicely, I hope you choke A poet of sorts but I'm not enough to give you an eyesore It's hard to swallow with your hands around my throat I'm sick and tired of "I told you so" You can call me at home But I know better than to answer the phone When people ask about the last time that we spoke I let the stitches do the talking for the most part And I leave out how you threw a lamp through my front window Just burn the photographs, and bury all the pages that we knew In short, this is a long goodbye to unexpecting you Even if I spend 2004 listening to Morrissey in my car I'm better off alone than I would be in your arms Just burn the photographs, and bury all the pages that we knew In short, this is a long goodbye to unexpecting you Just burn the photographs, and bury all the pages that we knew In short, this is a long goodbye to unexpecting you Just burn the photographs, and bury all the pages that we knew In short, this is a long goodbye to unexpecting you Just burn the photographs, and bury all the pages that we knew In short, this is a long goodbye to unexpecting you To unexpecting you To unexpecting you To unexpecting you To unexpecting you