[Verse]
Wish I could write songs about anything other than death
But I can't go to bed without drawing the red, shaving off breaths
Each one so heavy, each one so cumbersome
Each one a lead weight hanging between my lungs
Spilling my guts, sweat on the microphone
Breaking my voice whenever I'm alone with you
Can't talk, "Isn't this weather nice? Are you okay?"
Should I go somewhere else and hide my face?
A sprinter learning to wait
A marathon runner, my ankles are sprained

[Refrain]
A marathon runner, my ankles are sprained