I feel so blurry, empty and forsaken.
Everytime I see you with her,
It's a wild ride between fury and despair.
How do I balance this scale of love and logic,
I can't even tell which is which!
Our love's a scar
(The more you pick at it the longer it stays)
An ugly scab preserved with time
(The more you pick at it the longer it stays)
I spend the nights in weary whisper,
Contemplating the theories that have long since failed me,
Ideas of marriage and happiness that seemed so hopeful,
And now I can see how hollow they were.
So I hold on inside,
Swallowing hate with high hopes,
And begging my heart to just forget about you!
I hate everyone... I'm bitter.
So how can I feel such passion?
My mind is jumbles of incoherent thought,
Tangled in the weeks of your absence.
Our love's a scar, man
(The more you pick at it the longer it stays)
An ugly scab preserved with time
(The more you pick at it the longer it stays)
And you know what? I'll pick at it forever.
Just because i want your memory to stay.
And it shall, because after all,
Our love is a scar
(The more you pick at it the longer it stays)
An ugly yet comforting scab preserved with time
(The more you pick at it the longer it stays)