With a surgeon's precision and a drunk man's hand They say I've stopped growing, so I'll do what I can Nothing ever changes 'til it gets outta hand Don't panic, this is just routine Don't panic, this is just routine You've got roses on the brain, but I'm all wilt Even if the roses are fake, the plastic is real And you are not the only one afraid of standing still Ooh My misery will bury you And I'm so sorry that I'm scaring you But what was I supposed to do As opposed to loving you? You've got roses on the brain But I'm all wilt I'm all wilt I'm all wilt My misery will bury you And I'm so sorry that I'm scaring you But what was I supposed to do, ooh If you can't give me something real to hang on to? I knew it would lead to nothing But what was I supposed to do As opposed to loving you?