Soufflés and cigarettes

I've noticed that the holes in my jeans let in all sorts of cold. The rain and snow fall on the exposed skin. When they ask me why I wear them I say because they remind me of who I am. Holes in my jeans, holes in my heart, what difference does it make? I fall off my skateboard just like I fall in love, with little promises that everything is all right. And maybe just maybe she'll believe me. Plagued by open wounds, let me be your bandaid and let me be your pain killer. And we can watch Christmas movies with hot chocolate but no one can see the stains. Stains of blood and cigarette burns. Tears and beers. Your pain is mine as well. The world is a beautiful place but not when you're blue.