Butterscotch

I’m so goddamn lonely I visit the corners of my mind
It’s a fixer-upper; I’m a little scared of what I might find
A fight from November
You gave me grief for feeling guilty
The rain turned to snow
My urge for going growing heavy

Tell me that I’m like the rest
Then whisper that I’m something special
No-win situation keeps me consistently judgemental
Late in December a little voice of reason starts to beg
The snow turned to butterscotch and stuck to old wounds inside my head

Save me from myself
And baby, don’t be gentle