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?