When the skin and vessels underneath
Choose the space for bruising
I'm somewhere in between
Clumsily pulling on the strings

Oh, my mistakes are hardly that
At their points of contact
As the shades of grey grow redder
I should have known better

Soon the pain will be removed
As your skin regains its hue
You'll be rid of everything except me

Oh, my mistakes are hardly that
As the shades of grey grow redder
I should have known
That I'm only letting me get the best of me
I'm only letting me get the best of me