white lines, pretty baby, tattoos. don't know what they mean, they're special just for you.
And I hear you’ve ended up fine.
And I’ve heard you’re making out alright.
I’ve heard you still don’t like the cold outside,
And I’ve heard you still got trouble tracking time.
And I heard you said one time,
That I never even fucking cross your mind.
I guess I’ll act like that’s fine,
But you should know that you cross mine all the time.