(McKinley & Brian Cutler)
There is no surgery for this
You won't wake up neatly stitched
You have to break it off and burn it shut,
half the arrow still in your chest
When you put your arms around someone else,
it will not curve
but tap at your bone and flirt with your softer parts
Cupid's shooting with evil, rusty darts
He doesn't know he's being cruel,
just hunting for sport
leaving us littered like buffalo
On the prairie I'm down there dying watching clouds
They look like my dog, my pillow, my teapot, my frown
Until I'm ready to spin up in a wisp, because I can't
get up and walk away like this
But if I lay here and collect the clouds back I can make a
heart out of nothing
A clean steam pump steeping details
having dumped the valves of stone in Cupid's
bloody, pudgy hands I can travel light, travel light
Cupid's shooting with evil, rusty darts
He doesn't know he's being cruel,
just hunting for sport
leaving us littered like buffalo
leaving us littered like buffalo,
my teapot my pillow
My God My God My God