Limp Right Back

I'm sick of shaking hands

I'm feeling all too withered

I can't count the ways

That we've become untethered

But I can limp right back

I'll put things back together

If you're gone, it's alright

There are roses on the vine

And I was made to march on

'Til the end

I'd blow away your tears

And suffer for your pleasure

Been tossed around before

And lost just like a feather

So I will limp right back

I'll put things back together

If you're gone, it's alright

There are roses on the vine

And I was made to march on

'Til the end

Through sickness and in health

The friends I know so well

Pain, blame

Means to satisfy

Through sickness and in health

The friends I know so well

Pain, blame

Means to satisfy

I'm sick of shaking hands

I'm feeling all too withered

I can't count the ways

That we've become untethered

But I can limp right back

I'll put things back together

If you're gone, it's alright

There are roses on the vine

And I was made to march on

'Til the end