Hey, You Dropped Something

I'm not trying to say, that it can't be the same, but it's not.
Your blood feels wrong in my veins, and there's too many drops in your names, for my taste.
I'm not saying, I'm not staying, I'm just saying, that I'm onto you.
Your birds have downed all my bees, and made trophies of all of their wings, and they're not.
Flying much anymore, in fact, they're all camped out on the floor, half-dead.
I'm not saying, I'm not staying, I'm just saying, that I'm onto you.
That I'm onto you.
All talk.