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Songtext

When trying hard not to remember makes you think about it more
I stand up straight, you measure, and you mark it on the door
Never saw you walk on water
But I watched you mother four
You couldn't raise me like a father
When we're choking on our child support

Well, am I smart?
Or just thinking really hard?
Destined for dementia
Doomed right from the very start
And our trauma bond was tangled in tape from the VCR
So sick to my stomach
I was force-fed the fear of the dark

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And when you lose all muscle memory
Forget completely how to stand
You know I won't let you forget me
I'll come convince you who I am

Make you understand

Touch and go
Now you see me now you don't
Phantom limb affection
Crave the feeling of your ghost

Now you're forging all the symptoms that you
Never had supposed
Learning to live with them
Said it's easier to live alone

Sick from the soothing
Drowning in dreams
Shellshocked in shelter
You'll pass in your sleep

The thorn in my side was grown from your ground
You're never before seen, never again found

And when you lose all muscle memory
Forget completely how to stand
You know I won't let you forget me
I'll come convince you who I am

I came to see
How the world looks without me
Is it all you thought it'd be?
Living in loving memory

You built me a home inside a bucket
And you're poking some holes up top so I can breathe
Knew I was lying
If I had to look away

Do you think we'd be friends when we were younger?
If I knew you back then, God knows who I would be
Walking in semi-circles
To shape this baby face

You built me a home inside a bucket
And you're poking some holes up top so I can breathe
Knew I was lying
If I had to look away

Do you think we'd be friends when we were younger?
If I knew you back then, God knows who I would be
Walking in semi-circles
To shape this baby face

A picture portrait of you, you're pouting
Plucked from the days where you couldn't feel a thing
A thousand words and always counting
But you, I can't explain

Writer(s): Anton Delost, Jeff Whyte, Jeremy Whyte, Allen Steinberg

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