Texty: Acetone. Don't Cry.

At night I feel the air just slip through my fingers
In daylight it sticks like glue
When I consider all the things that creep under my skin
None of them are quite as sweet as you

So don't cry

And if I leave, and coming back I lose my way
Don't change the locks on the back door
Cause even though my brain may be twisted and unsound

You know that my heart is true

So don't cry
So don't cry
So don't cry
So don't cry