Bread and Bleeding

I'm getting over "most of me"...that's all I give:
Almost always "most of me".
And I'm getting tired!

But I say, "We're doing fine,"
Well, that's what I say: You and I are doing fine.
But this is exhausting, this love, and it's working...

Honestly, I know you know,
And it hurts to say, but we've been here a year or so,
And it feels like blue collar.

All those loving things you said, well they're hard to hear,
And I'm confused and scared to death...
And it's all bread and bleeding, and inside I'm screaming:

This is how it is, all along.
A half-empty bed and you're still waiting up.
I'm coming home again, all alone,
Just tell me you want me to and I'll lay back down.

And I'm sorry, for all my pretending.
But you know me, where else would I go?
And I'm sorry, for all my pretending.
But you know me, where else would I go?
And I'm sorry, for all my pretending.
But you know me, where else would I go?

This is how it is, all along.
A half-empty bed and you're still waiting up.
I'm coming home again, all alone,
Just tell me you want me to and I'll lay back down