When It Hurts

(call me when it hurts)

Two rings, I'm awake.

I know what that means.

He did it again.

You don't have to speak.

The code's still the same.

The lamp's still on low.

I kept it how you left it —

that should scare you more than him.

You cry yourself quiet.

You borrow my calm.

You're gone before light,

and I put the room back like nothing occurred—

So call me when it hurts.

Call me when it hurts.

I'm under the mat

where you keep your spare —

you know I'll be there.

But don't call me when it's good.

I can't take the good.

Just call me when it hurts.

(call me when it hurts)

I met him one time.

We shook hands at the bar.

He was nice.

That's the worst part.

I smiled through my drink,

said "look after her" —

and I meant it,

and I didn't,

both at once.

You fall asleep fast.

I stay up and guard it.

By morning you're better.

Better means gone—

So call me when it hurts.

Call me when it hurts.

I'm under the mat

where you keep your spare —

you know I'll be there.

But don't call me when it's good.

I can't take the good.

Just call me when it hurts.

(call me when it hurts)

Some nights I catch it.

A small ugly prayer:

let him run cold again.

And I swallow it down

but it doesn't stay down.

What kind of love keeps a light on

and hopes for the dark?

(what kind of love is that)

Call me when it hurts!

Call me when it hurts!

I'm under the mat

where you keep your spare —

I'll always be there.

Don't call me when it's good —

I can't take the good —

just call me when it hurts.

Call me when it hurts.

Call me when it hurts.

(call me when it hurts)

I'm only real when it hurts.