Lay your head upon my breast
Need me like the heart in your chest
I want to be your Sunday best
Oh but I digress
I want to be needed
And I need to be wanted
I admit its conceited
So it’s easy to believe
Let’s all gather round
And sing of the ones that got away
They all sound so similar
Yet the sorrow stays
There are a million songs
About a broken heart
And there are a million more
About those who tore it apart
The passion blooms
In a field of sobbing flowers
And the knowledge looms
That the tears are not ours
Other songs ring far truer
Most poems are more sublime
But she put my heart on a skewer
It’s best not to waste one’s time
Let’s all gather round
And sing of the ones that got away
They all sound so similar
Yet the sorrow stays
There are a million songs
About a broken heart
And there are a million more
About those who tore it apart
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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