Calloused

You’re calloused, but you don’t even know I’m picking at my scabs. I’ll let all the bruises show. I’ll never forget what all these feelings meant. Flying home for a funeral was my last regret. I hear a telephone three thousand miles from home. Do you really care? Your heart is just a stone. I’ll never forget what all these feelings meant. Flying home for a funeral was my last regret. --- Calloused - Title Fight