Текст Bad Books – You Wouldn’t Have To Ask

Your crooked days come bundled up in bunches
They break your brain like a branch
And push you out here, asking after something
You should know I don’t have

If I had it, you wouldn’t have to ask
If I had it, you wouldn’t have to ask

Later on, when you bargain with your mirror
And you ask, «Is it really that bad?»

Well, if it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have to ask
If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have to ask

How could you know if you didn’t?
And what’s left to say when your tongue’s turned to ash?
I tell you you’re fine and forgiven
So you wouldn’t have to ask

You shoot what’s left
Slip inside your sinner’s smile
Another man in a mask

If you fixed it, you wouldn’t need a mask
If you managed, you wouldn’t need a mask
If I could fix you, you wouldn’t have to ask
If I could help you, you wouldn’t have to ask