Petite Mort - Bad Books, Manchester Orchestra, Kevin Devine

Petit mort, I’m asking for an answer

Petit mort, you sang until you slept

Petit mort, you took yourself, you bastard

Petit mort, now sleeping’s all that’s left

You took apart the sympathetic angle

You catered to the bitterness inside

Resigned yourself to depths I couldn’t handle

A million daily deaths before you’ll die

Gathered a bouquet of roses and posies, and straightened my tie

When I got there, you were nowhere I could find

Through layer after layer of subconscious

I hunted for a reason in the woods

I tore apart the map and started backwards

I couldn’t picture living there for good

I left you there to finish setting fires

I left you there to propagate your lie

I left you there 'cause honey, I was tired

I left you but that doesn’t make it right

I remember your bedroom, ivy and clover

You kept me alive

Knives drawn, the butcher world waited outside

Petit mort, I’m asking for an answer

Petit mort, you sang until you slept

And petit mort, you took yourself, you bastard

Now petit mort, sleeping’s all that’s left