Speaking in knives, you cut a hole in my chest
            (it’s hollow, it’s empty, it’s lonely at best). 
    Did you ever
    Did you ever play that game in your car
 where the light up ahead is red
    but you think it’ll turn green by the time you get there. 
    It’ll turn green, so you floor it.  
Speaking in bullets, you shot me twice at the start
                    (once in the head, and once in the heart).  
  So you’re speeding, and you’re thinking
  about the weather, and if maybe
         that blue sedan behind you is a cop.
  You really can’t break now.
         Speaking in riddles, you twisted my soul
                    (you shook me to pieces, you took me whole). 
    And if you lived all of your life like this,
    at the brink of death, or at least at the mercy of the law,
    then maybe you wouldn’t care so much.
       It’s only because the light turns green at the final second
       that you’re still here.                              (But you’ll pay.)
    Wait for it, it’ll stay red one day.          
    (And maybe that’s what you wanted.)
              You’re speaking without me, I’m falling apart
                                                  (you’ll be better off far away from my heart).