If I Cut My Hair by Chiodos
You keep tugging on my shirt,
just to pull me closer.
One single step at a time.
Your skin against mine.
I can just feel you wondering.
Fit to be tied,
Fit to be tied.
Fit to be, fit to be tied.
I feel weak.
Thrown in wide open spaces.
We turn ourselves inside out,
expose what we're afraid to see.
And I know what you're thinking.
I tell myself.
I keep pulling
I keep pulling
Now grown numb.
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