Here, I wrote you a song. Knock yourself out

he's sitting in his bed
he's got this story in his head
this story about a girl
and the whirlwind
that brought them both to an end

they're all poised just right
all the characters
and all their plights
but the story's about his girl
just enough to make you sick
the words are on the tip
of her tongue oh, what fun!

he knows where they go
where all the bad ones go
all the criminals and broken bones
but he can't place her,
she'll go down as the one that
got the best of him, in the end

you're running from the pain
it's so easy to see
why don't you just wait?
you've got all this time
you'll be doing just fine
when all is written in the end

with every breath
i've got your number
i've got your guesses and the place where you slumber
with every breath
you get further away
you've got all my messes and all my mistakes

you've got your pistol loaded with excuses
and some more rounds of apologies
"i don't knows..." and "i'm so sorrys"
you'll shoot them at him but it will be useless
he's got his pen and what happened is bulletproof
the ink won't run the way the blood would
"I don't knows.." and "I'm so sorrys"
don't work on hearts made out of cold and slate