If it makes you less sad
I’ll move out of the state
You can keep to yourself
I’ll keep out of your way.

And if it makes you less sad
I’ll take your pictures all down
Every picture you paint
I will paint myself out.

It’s as cold as a tomb
And it’s dark in your room
When I sneak to your bed
To pour salt in your wounds.

So call it quits
Or get a grip
Say you wanted a solution
You just wanted to be missed.