Look, it's just that I've been thinking about it for a few days and...
It's not that I don't love you, but it's complicated.

How do you expect me to know that I no longer matter to you?
If I come home, you don't look into my eyes.
There's no longer an "I love you," now I just cry.
If I weren't like this, there would still be an "us."

And I return to your name, I dismantle the verses
of major chords for smaller ones.
I don't want you to cry, you're not doing it.
But, even if it hurts me, you don't want my kisses.

Those that I didn't give, they eat me up inside,
and I blame you because I'm burning.
I didn't look out for you, and now I just want
to take off your clothes, we'll see the rest.

I don't hear the echo, and they keep saying,
"Insensitive jerk who killed what you had!"
I don't think that, I love you and I'm sorry.
I wasn't there for you or for myself, it was fear.

The wings no longer open, and I don't feel like
seeing you dance if you don't look at my face.
You saw my tweet, I don't get out of bed.
And I know you ignore me, I'm tired too.

I'm tired too.

And I want you to scream that you hate me now.
I know it's not like that, history repeats itself.
Just do it for me, so I forget your mouth,
and it doesn't hurt so much to feel so alone.

And I'm still so broken, I fill another glass
to see if you look at me and say "control yourself."

The pain doesn't stop, and the hours don't pass.

And how do I tell you that I miss it
if what we had inside never happened?
And I still remember, I saw you smiling,
that damn November full of memories.

And how do I tell you that I miss it
if what we had inside never happened?

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