The last thing I wanna do right now
is read your stupid poetry.
Why can't you just tell me what you really wanna say?
You'd clear your conscience
with words so weak and empty,
but something in your eyes gave you away.

And I've been lonely
like a silhouette, or a serenade.
A heart attack, or a man betrayed.
The arms of love are holding me like a
silhouette, or a serenade.

Is this all you have to say?
This broken boy will hang on every word.
You tell me that you need me, while I slowly fall apart.
You'd heal your heartache
with words so cool and callous,
but the absence of your tears gave you away.

And all pretty poems have to end,
so I say this before I leave.
If words are your weapons my dear, I surrender.
Surrender.

Silhouette, or a serenade.
A heart attack, or a man betrayed.
The arms of love are holding me to you.