limp right back

i'm sick of shaking hands

i'm feeling all too weathered

i can't count the ways

that we've become untethered

but i can limp right back

i'll put things back together

if you're gone

it's alright

there are roses on the vine

and i was made to march on

'til the end of me

i'd blow away your tears

and suffer for your pleasure

been tossed around before

and lost just like a feather

so i will limp right back

i put things back together

if you're gone

it's alright

there are roses on the vine

and i was made to march on

'til the end of me

through sickness and in health

the friends i know so well

pain

blame

means to satisfy

through sickness and in health

the friends i know so well

pain

blame

means to satisfy

i'm sick of shaking hands

i'm feeling all too weathered

i can't count the ways

that we've become untethered

but i can limp right back

i'll put things back together

if you're gone

it's alright

there are roses on the vine

and i was made to march on

'til the end of me