The Postal Service Follow

Will someone please call a surgeon
Who can crack my ribs
And repair this broken heart
That you're deserting for better company?
I can't accept that it's over
I will block the door
Like a goalie tending the net
In the third quarter of a tied-game of rivalry

So just say how to make it right
And I swear I'll do my best to comply

Tell me am I right to think
That there could be nothing better
Than making you my bride
And slowly growing old together?

I feel I must interject here
You're getting carried away
Feeling sorry for youself
With these revisions and gaps in history
So let me help you remember
I've made charts and graphs
That should finally make it clear
I've prepared a lecture on why I have to leave

So please back away and let me go

I can't, my darling, I love you so

Tell me am I right to think
That there could be nothing better
Than making you my bride
And slowly growing old together

Don't you feed me lines
About some idealistic future
Your heart won't heal right
If you keep tearing out the sutures

I admit that I have made mistakes
And I swear I'll never wrong you again

You've got a lure I can't deny
But you've had your chance so say goodbye
Say goodbye