November

I can't get out of my own head Get out of my own head Get out of my own head When did you get so irate I thought you knew we cleaned the slate But you keep asking why I did that thing I could've lasted but you're damaging My little heart, my harp, you play the strings It got so hard, too hard, to keep remembering Incinerate my flesh and carve my bones To make a mannequin that you can pose and beat up When did you get so irate I thought you knew we cleaned the slate But you keep asking why I did that thing I could've lasted but you're damaging My little heart, my harp, you play the strings It got so hard, too hard, to keep remembering Incinerate my flesh and carve my bones To make a mannequin that you can pose and beat up