I've got callusses on my soul from laying on my strings
I've been playing too much not thinking about things
like the shape of your face or the bruises on your thighs
I'm sorry but bones are so hard and they rise
like seashells in the sand like the look in your eyes
and you kissed me so hard that we could not stop
I've got callusses on my soul and my blisters won't pop

I should have known better instead I got to know you
now you're an itch I can't scratch a stone in my shoe
My God you're beautiful, are you insane?
Why are you with me?  Not that I'd complain,
but your hormones are boiling like some song by the Cure
I've got callusses on my soul, but my thumb is still pure

I'm looking for a new girl one that fits me like a glove
one who'll smooth my rough skin with the lotion of love
one who likes to go to movies and actually watch
not that I mind your hand in my crotch,
but could we laugh and sing and smile and touch
I've got callusses on my soul from thinking too much.