I've gotten good at hiding
When I feel like hiding
My mouth is great at running
When I feel like (running)

Now I'm biting the hairs on my arm like I do
When I don't know where I am
Or what I should do

I've been blessed with these eyes that come with innocent questions
Like "Where I'm from"
Holding expectations to give obvious answers
And tell no lies

I swear there's nothing innocent in these eyes

Because I've seen dead friends
And I've seen murder
And I've done things I wish I hadn't done.

But that's not to say that
I'm not afraid of long nights dwelling on past mistakes

Because with life moving as fast as it does,
I'll still have stories to f*****g tell.
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