Don’t know why she has faith
With a open heart, no one can ever be safe
Stare at shots on your phone
Keep your vanity and leave her on her own
Jesus christ, try to imagine the scenes
For sycophantic likers and slick retweet machines
Even though she’s real and she will hold you
You bite the underhand that feeds
She’s calling time on you
She’s calling time on you, when you leave tonight
Almost there, calling time
Her rose-tinted glasses shrouded all the red lines
Please do call Mr Sands
If her profile change is hard to understand
Nothing glamourous about what you have
Laughable and low, what you claim to be
Blame it on your mother and your micro-dad
Spin all your tales of debauchery, but end every night with cold KFC
She’s calling time on you
She’s calling time on you, when you leave tonight
Too late, that’s time for you
She’s calling time on you, when you leave tonight
That’s your lot, she called time
Her rose-tinted glasses shrouded all the red lines
That’s your lot, left alone
Huddled in the cold with nothing but your phone
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