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Four Years

de Senses Fail

I take a shot of Jameson or Jack to start the morning off with old friends.
I'll celebrate it like it's the anniversary of the day that we first met.
I've been practicing our eulogy... separated all our things.
I took my name off of the lease. I'm leaving.

Dear, four years hurts less than five
(and it's never a good time.)
I am sorry for all my crimes and the wandering gaze of my unfaithful eyes.

Now I wonder as I am sliding under the subtle control of the drink...
If I have enough left in the bottle to say all the things I'm thinking?
I've been practicing my exit plan;
nervously checking the time,
I still don't know how I will survive.

Dear, four years hurts less than five
(and it's never a good time.)
I am sorry for all my crimes and the wandering gaze of my unfaithful eyes.
It's clear, I am an awful mess.
(but I had to get this off my chest.)
Soon the only things I'll have left is your memory and the promises never kept.

When he came home I made her sit.
My feet tap out a rhythm as I draw breath in.
To hurt the only one I've loved...
This is so damn hard but I am giving up.
The person that you love is dead;
I flooded him out with the Jack and Jameson.
So happy anniversary. The best gift I could think to give you was to set you free.

Wake up, you're sleeping.
Wake up, you're sleeping behind the wheel.
Wake up, you're sleeping.
Wake up, you're sleeping behind the wheel.

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