Verse

I am used to being loved oh so fiercely
It leaves bruises to bloom on my skin.
I am used to being loved without mercy,
So forgive me for breaking when you walked in.

Chorus

And in the spaces between conversations,
Our words are lost, and I am found in their place.
Isn’t it strange that I’m afraid?

Verse

I am used to being used as a punchbag,
For catharsis, a means to an end.
I am used to being used as a fallback,
So forgive my distrust of your good intent.

Chorus

And in the spaces between conversations,
Our words are lost, and I am found in their place.
Isn’t it strange that I’m afraid?

Bridge

I’ve spent so long being misunderstood
That you tell me I’m good,
And I turn away.
I’ve spent so long being battered and hurt that
When you tell me I’m worth it,
There’s an aftertaste.
‘Cause you treat me like a person and I’m not sure I’m deserving,
Still I wonder if I can be saved.
But I am used to being hated,
And for years I have wasted away,
Smeared with the ashes of the mess that they made
Of my brain.

Chorus

And in the spaces between conversations,
Our words are lost, and I am found in their place.
Isn’t it strange that I’m afraid
To be known? To be known? To be known?