There’s Nothing I Hate More Than Small Talk

[Verse 1]
The kind of love that makes the heart grow stale
I'm getting good at setting myself up to fail
And still I caress scratches on your skin
Though I know they're not my own, don't you understand:
I'd do anything to win?
So caught up in what is normal, you forgot to catch your breath
I've gone in a little far over my head, you said:
"We're going to work this out"

[Verse 2]
The kind of love that makes the heart grow stale
I'm getting good at setting myself up to fail
Suffocate my innocence, stand tall
Have we really come this far for nothing at all?
I can't tell myself it's not my fault
He who makes a beast of himself hates the pain of being a man
What's on your mind? Just the surpassing of time, you said:
"We're going to work this out, but I can't get inside your head"

[Chorus]
Pile driver, pile driver, pile driver
Someone's left the gas on
And my head is the vapour of liquid gold
The sweet corrosion of my thoughts
And so I bury, and so I bury
I can't tell myself it's not my fault

[Outro]
The air moves slower now
I'm knee-deep running in the mud
Sweat and tears on skin
Like condensation of the mess we've made
I can't get inside your head
I can't tell myself it's not my fault
And so I bury, and so I bury
I can't get inside your heart
I can't tell myself it's not my fault