Perfume
Will you think of me when you're drunk on Christmas eve?
If I show up at your door, would you ask me to leave?
Now I'm broken and insecure, but I'm hoping
Your perfume lingers heavy on my clothes
They're worn out and dirty but I can't let them go
I'm hungover and insecure, but I'm hoping
There's a million of me, just one of you
What else can I do?
You're my reason to live, I've got nothing I can give
I hope you feel the same way too
Now I'm fucked up and insecure, but I'm hoping
Autor(es): MAX JOEL BLOOM
