DESCRIPTION:
By now, all is said and done
And it turns out I'm the one
Who should be sorry
And what, what did I become
But a thistle in your thumb
A writer of sad stories

And though I once wished that they would come true
If you're done I'm done hurting you

And it's strange, the tenderness of hearts
Worn out on the arms
To feel their beating
And ours, beaten black and blue
The stories we made true
The mistakes we're repeating

And they'll fade, the bruises I gave you
But you'll get them back from someone new