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