Cross my T’s, dot my I’s
Make my bed, draw my blinds
Greet the sun and tell the skies,
“This is going to hurt,”
Love hits like an edible,
For some time, incredible
By physics it’s inevitable,
This is going to hurt
Willful captive,
Foolish game
Know it always
Ends the same
Bloody hands,
Yourself to blame
This is going to hurt
Make my bed, draw my blinds
Greet the sun and tell the skies,
“This is going to hurt,”
Love hits like an edible,
For some time, incredible
By physics it’s inevitable,
This is going to hurt
Willful captive,
Foolish game
Know it always
Ends the same
Bloody hands,
Yourself to blame
This is going to hurt