The Worst Part

We can take our time.
Our thoughts to words, all for nothing.
What i meant to say was that all our stories end in the same way.
Our hearts end on the covers of the magazines.

Here's to better days and no mistakes.
Here's to early graves.

These circles turn our hearts to knots.
We can't leave this when it fits us so well.
One more perfect page of tired themes -
counterparts to the stories that we tell.

Here's to better days and no mistakes.
Here's to early graves.

And it's the worst part.
You can't change what you hate.
It is the soles of your shoes.
It is the head you shave.
And this will follow me however graceful we dance.
It moves with me perfectly.