Crying behind the marquee, crying behind the spotlight, crumpled up in dress and heals. Hungover on champagne, can’t deal with my own pain, doubled up in crippling fear. Oh, the decisions that got me here.
Crying at the back of the bus replacement service, the breeze from the window blows my hair over my face. Confronted with the past, and it’s not gonna get over itself, or the decisions I had to make. Oh, the decisions I had to take.
Keeping my distance, cause I’m not gonna win this, however it gets played. Drinking and smoking like nobody’s business only to feel again. Oh, the decisions that cause such pain.