Pulling Teeth

Sitting around, counting the ways you love me so beyond

Sitting around, imagining how I'll mourn you when you're gone

You may call it pessimism, I'm just looking out

My head's so tired, gums are bleeding, need these hands out of my mouth

You're so good, you knock me off my feet

But how come you're fine and I'm here pulling teeth?

When things are good, just know I still taste blood

You got me wondering why I like it rough

I'm well trained to believe the head rush was love

But lately I've been thinking maybe I've been breathing in too much rust