The Mess

Well the older I get
The more I get sad
When I keep myself from eating
And so do all my friends
I thought being a woman
Was cleaning up the mess
But I am, but I am the mess
And the more I look back
The more it looks bad

Seeing I was unwilling
To give up what I had
I thought being a lover
Was folding your hand
But, I'm done, I'm done with that
I'm done with that