Lyrics

She said sing yourself to death tonight,
I hope they blind you with the spotlight.
And if you happen to lose your sight,
Then I'll be alright,
Maybe you'll never write again.

And if you damage your vocal cords,
I'll get down on my knees and thank the lord.
Maybe you can write a metaphor
For a troubadour who can't sing anymore.

If my hands were tied, how might I reach you?
How could I tell you how much I need you?
The closest things are the hardest to reach,
The harder you think, the farther they seem.

What happened to you darling?
You used to love the songs I wrote.
You used to sing them softly,
Even when your hands were around my throat.

She said, "Writing a song doesn't make you right,"
but I rely on the chance that it might.
And if I get myself a record deal tonight we can tell a million people how you feel.
The only way to sing with a bullet in your teeth is to do it with a smile on your face,
And for revenge I have the finest of taste,
So I'll be smiling when I rub it in your face.

I evnvied you because you never missed the notes that I missed.
I missed every note for you.
I caught every blow that you blew.
Now I'm doing what you knew I'd do.