Been gone more days this year than I have been home
Trading friends for trips to the coast
This hotel room feels more like a tomb
Been gone more days this year than I have been home
Trading friends for trips to the coast
This hotel room feels more like a tomb
It is not gossip if it is the truth
I'm sick of always writing songs for you
To slit your wrists to
So which is it: the boy who writes the songs
Or the boy who is in them?
Who is the girl? Is this truth
Or is he writing fiction?
Hand over my heart, gun to my head
I swear to God I'm through with this
I am the worst liar I know
It is not gossip if it is the truth
I'm sick of always writing songs for you
To slit your wrists to
So which is it: the boy who writes the songs
Or the boy who is in them?
Who is the girl? Is this truth
Or is he writing fiction?
Which is it: the boy who writes the songs
Or the boy who is in them?
Who is the girl? Is this truth
Or is he writing fiction?
(So which is it?) So which is it? Which is it?
(So which is it?)
(So which is it?) So which is it? Which is it?
(So which is it?)
(So which is it?) So which is it? Which is it?
(So which is it?)
(So which is it?) So which is it? Which is it?
Who is the girl? Is this truth
Or is he writing fiction?
Which is it: the boy who writes the songs
Or the boy who is in them?
Who is the girl? Is this truth
Or is he writing fiction?
(Been gone more days this year than I have been home)
(Been gone more days this year than I have been home)