Baby, it’s not your fault that you don’t know what it’s like to shatter.
It’s just that I’m all chipped pieces of stained glass that have been pieced back together one too many times and it’s hard for me to believe that the word “beautiful” doesn’t come with a price.
It’s hard for me to sign on the dotted line without reading the fine print.
But you say there’s no tricks, no secret clauses.
I want to believe so you badly.
But if there’s no catch,
what do I blame when I start falling?