how was the time spent apart how was the time spent sleeping on your own how was the bitterness so sick you had written my name out and put it in stone and you don t cry at funerals anymore and it makes you sick oh god how it makes you sick someday when i ve said all of my last words i swear that i ll make things fair i bet you wish that you looked this good doing things that you know that your heart never would and you don t cry at funerals anymore and it makes you sick oh god how it makes you sick someday when i ve said all of my last words i swear that i ll make things fair call me a martyr sin like a saint who lets them know that you don t even care and you don t cry at funerals anymore can you let it out can you let it out can you let it out and it makes you sick oh god how it makes you sick