This is my third message
It’s the fact
You wont call back 
That twists the knife that’s in my back
This is my third message

And we do what we love
(This isn’t helping)

This is inexcusable
All our work
All our hope
Vanished in a ball of smoke
Inexcusable

And we do what we love
And we hope without hope 
And we mean it
And we weep and we bleed 
And we hope and we hope
And we only love you
Hope you feel it

These are the pieces
Of my heart
Of my [bad word] 
Of discussion between us
These are the pieces