I don’t deal well with games of the heart…
If bets were placed, layed out in segments
of our memories, you know I’d fold out.
Holding out on hopes, you know I played out
too many times this same hand
hit bust, now Cupid hits back,
busting broken arrows of misdirected thoughts
lacking even the slightest respect for your misconceptions
of these miscarried cards of my conscience
where I’d rather creep with lady luck
than to fuck my own nonsense. man
Fuck this damn nonsense
cuz cents could never make change
to represent your fucking worth.
I’m not afraid to admit it
I’m just afraid to love,
Love, you know I’m just afraid of us.
cuz I’d rather play russian roulette
than to gamble with your trust.