I like the way your fingertips
Smell of cigarette smoke
And try to make the best of life
When you're miserable and broke
I like the way your lips are rough
And you try to eat the skin
And in bad habit we are skipping meals
And growing slightly thin
I like to draw your jaded face
And pretend that you're not there
We repeat ourselves everyday
And write the things we wouldn't dare
Do.
You.
Hey.
You.
Do.