LYRICS
Use A− / A+ to adjust text sizeHand Of God
Been gone more days this year than I have been homeTrading friends for trips to the coastThis hotel room feels more like a tombBeen gone more days this year than I have been homeTrading friends for trips to the coastThis hotel room feels more like a tombIt's not gossip if it's the truthI'm sick of always writing songs for you to slit your wrists toSo which is it: the boy who writes the songs or the boy who's in them?Who's the girl? Is this truth or is he writing fiction?Hand over my heart, gun to my headI swear to God I'm through with thisI am the worst liar I knowIt's not gossip if it's the truthI'm sick of always writing songs for you to slit your wrists toSo which is it: the boy who writes the songs or the boy who's in them?Who's the girl? Is this truth or is he writing fiction?Which is it: the boy who writes the songs or the boy who's in them?Who's 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's the girl? Is this truth or is he writing fiction?Which is it: the boy who writes the songs or the boy who's in them?Who's 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)
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