You know the funny thing about the day you realise who or what you are
Is that by the time it happens you’re prob’ly not that anymore
And the funny thing is logic states for things to break
They first must fall
And like any small or precious thing, you give nothing or you give all

I can’t give you any more than that
I don’t trust my clumsy feet not to make me fall flat
And the heart’s the only muscle tissue, little known fact
That don’t know how to heal itself if you cut it in half
So don’t cut it in half

We spend our days in endless cycles of lust to oxytocin
Never stopping to think about the space between us that we’ve chosen
Well I can give my mouth, my ear, but I can’t give you my hand
‘Cause though you’re oh so understanding you can never understand

I will hand you cellotape and superglue, and staples
And I’ll help you hold those pieces in place til you’re fit and able
I can never be a surgeon ’cause my stomach’s far from strong
But I hope my bedside sympathies suffice to help you moving on

I can’t give you any more than that

I don’t trust my clumsy feet not to make me fall flat
And the heart’s the only muscle tissue little known fact
That don’t know how to heal itself if you cut it in half
So don’t cut it in half
No don’t cut it in half
No don’t cut it in half