Eight Weeks Of Privilege No Time For Regret (Nodes Of Ranvier)

Remove your hand from my throat My heart is too secure for your insecurities Your pathetic attempt to be mine and his has failed But only by my words was I the victor Now I killed this desire And it quickly became distaste Distaste for you (or what you have composed to be you) So please, quit wasting my time Spend more time on you Because it may take a while to remove your foot from your big mouth To the eye you are sweet But to the soul you are sour And I am no worse without you.