the candle can't bring
me love not a thing
can't warm my skin or sing like you
no thing can boil my blood and sting like you do

someday I'll stop buying things
that don't give me the high that's missing
there's no room between
they'll never be what was you

no blanket can hold me
no bath plug can stop up this hole
or control this blue no cup
can catch this spill
stay filled with the feeling of you

someday I'll stop buying things
that don't give me the high that's missing
there's no room between
they'll never be what was you

someday I'll stop buying things
like I'll stop missing you

I'll throw everything out of the door
You must use objects without hearts just like you

someday I'll stop buying things
that don't give me the high that's missing

someday I'll stop buying things
like I'll stop missing you
someday I'll stop buying things
like I'll stop missing you

. . . ?
. . . vacations . . . ?
. . . ?
even the things you didn't give me