I mean the rain and the leaves and the sun always have to fall
Kitchen table drinking coffee, like I sleep at all
And I never even liked it, no matter how sweetened it might get
Addicted to the bitterness and everything in me it ignited
Rushed into it and got burned
I guess we never learn
Because I keep on loosing balance everytime the tables turned
And just when everything is spotless, I go and make a hot mess
Looking around like I don't worry, I got this
When I really know I don't
I spoiled it, I mean I spilt it
Never crashed, it just tilted, and it splashed because I just filled it
Too much up, and I know this, they tell me that I'm hopeless
So I look down at the stain and then I notice that

It looks like you
Just a stain that I can't wash away

Nothing, it was nothing really
I'm just going crazy from heating things back up when it gets too chilly
I mean this ain't happening, I'm just imagining
Somebody explain to me how an accident can be so damn pretty
Went to get a lot of paper, maybe that'll help
Maybe I should cover it up and keep it to myself
I've had it with this habit, I'm an addict
And I've been at it ever since I had it, but turned advantage to heavy baggage
Trynna get it off, unable to
Friends telling me what they would do
My apologies to the table too
I'm all out of soap, déjà vu
So I scrub a little softer, scrub a little softer
Scrub a little softer, because it

It looks like you
Just a stain that I can't wash away

Fell asleep with my notebook, like I did as a kid
Wrote a song last night, or I think that I did
I think that you called me, think you were sorry, think that you skid to the crib
I think you were crying, said you been trying, think you admitted what you did
I think that we made up, think I forgave you, and it was a beautiful thing
I think that we made love, think that we stayed up, think that we did it again
Think we talked for hours, hours and hours, think it was something I said
I think that I hurt you, think you turned purple, think you sunk into the bed
Think that I woke up, member we broke up, stumbled to the bathroomsink
Things getting clearer, looked in the mirror, met with face full of ink
Moral of the story is, I don't have no clue
But how am I supposed to move on when everything around me

It looks like you
Just a stain that I can't wash away