By My Own Hand

Can you cut that tendon at the back of my hip

I can't run away, my bones congeal

The stakes are simple, shit and bile

But you just don't get it (No you just don't get it)

You must hook up with me for a year round summer

'Cos when the cold comes, you stay and sit number

But I'm sure ice would melt in your glove

And you just don't get it (No you just don't get it)

And it just can't hurt any worse than before

Strike a match and bolt the door

You get nothing back