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I'm sick of shaking hands I'm feeling all too withered I can't count the ways That we've become untethered I can limp right back I'll put things back together If you're gone, it's alright There are roses on the vine And I was made to march on 'Til the end of me I'll blow away your tears And suffer for your pleasure I've been tossed around before And lost, just like a feather And I will limp right back And put things back together If you're gone, it's alright There are roses on the vine And I was made to march on 'Til the end of me Through sickness and in health These friends I know so well SongtextePain, blame Means to satisfy Through sickness and in health These friends I know so well Pain, blame Means to satisfy I'm sick of shaking hands I'm feeling all too withered I can't count the ways That we've become untethered But I can limp right back And I'll put things back together If you're gone, it's alright There are roses on the vine And I was made to march on Until the end of me Aus Songtexte Mania