Tell me a lie
I'll be the first to fall
Give me an offer unofferable

Imagine the warmth
In those tiny hands
That held onto a penance
I didn't deserve

Don't it feel like a knife
In the back of your head?
And it reeks like an afterthought rotten and said
Maybe something got lost or forgotten instead

Oh, and I'm bound by a trunk
With a few memories
Of how you burn through your lovers
It's like an ugly disease

Give me an offer unofferable
That held onto a penance
I didn't deserve
And it reeks like an afterthought rotten instead
And maybe something got lost or forgotten and said

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): CONNER MOLANDER, DEVON PORTIELJE, DYLAN PHILLIPS, ISAAC NATHAN SYMONDS