Hand Of God

Been gone more days this year than I have been home
Trading friends for trips to the coast
This hotel room feels more like a tomb

Been gone more days this year than I have been home
Trading friends for trips to the coast
This hotel room feels more like a tomb

It's not gossip if it's the truth
I'm sick of always writing songs for you to slit your wrists to

So which is it, the boy who writes the songs
Or the boy who's in them
Who's the girl?
Is this truth, or is he writing fiction

Hand over my heart, gun to my head
I swear to God I'm through with this
I am the worst liar I know

It's not gossip if it's the truth
I'm sick of always writing songs for you to slit your wrists to

So which is it, the boy who writes the songs
Or the boy who's in them
Who's the girl?
Is this truth, or is he writing fiction
Which is it, the boy who writes the songs
Or the boy who's in them
Who's the girl?
Is this truth, or is he writing fiction

(So which is it?)
So which is it, which is it (So which is it?)
(So which is it?)
So which is it, which is it (So which is it?)
(So which is it?)
So which is it, which is it (So which is it?)
(So which is it?)
So which, which is it

Who's the girl
Is this truth, or is he writing fiction
(Is he writing fiction?)

Which is it, the boy who writes the songs
Or the boy who's in them
Who's the girl?
Is this truth, or is he writing fiction

(Been gone more days this year than I have been home)
(Been gone more days this year than I have been home)