There’s Nothing I Hate More Than Small Talk

[Verse 1]

The kind of love that makes the heart grow stale

I'm getting good at setting myself up to fail

And still I caress scratches on your skin

Though I know they're not my own, don't you understand:

I'd do anything to win?

So caught up in what is normal, you forgot to catch your breath

I've gone in a little far over my head, you said:

"We're going to work this out"

[Verse 2]

The kind of love that makes the heart grow stale

I'm getting good at setting myself up to fail

Suffocate my innocence, stand tall

Have we really come this far for nothing at all?

I can't tell myself it's not my fault

He who makes a beast of himself hates the pain of being a man

What's on your mind? Just the surpassing of time, you said:

"We're going to work this out, but I can't get inside your head"

[Chorus]

Pile driver, pile driver, pile driver

Someone's left the gas on

And my head is the vapour of liquid gold

The sweet corrosion of my thoughts

And so I bury, and so I bury

I can't tell myself it's not my fault

[Outro]

The air moves slower now

I'm knee-deep running in the mud

Sweat and tears on skin

Like condensation of the mess we've made

I can't get inside your head

I can't tell myself it's not my fault

And so I bury, and so I bury

I can't get inside your heart

I can't tell myself it's not my fault