It’s not like it used to be
We stopped smiling a while ago.
You promised not to break a promise
And I said I was a fool for your lies
But we’re all mirrors wrapped up in blood
I’ll hate you for all that I see in myself
And you’ll tell me death is more than I deserve.
If I must, I’d say the same to you.
It’s been a hard day. I never said you couldn’t have you’re own friends. But I also never said I’d like them. You’re telling me not to get offensive to your every critique. Well, you’d better find a mannequin. Because I’ve got a mouth that could paint you the new Mona Lisa. You said I was never very good at art. And did I ever say I was? But if you can’t learn how to share, maybe you’re not worth my smile. You can’t seem to find a friend to stay. And I could say I feel the same. I’m tired of always having to be the give up, get out when I’m always the one that has to try. Do you always feel the need to make me feel like shit?
I’m flunking out of reality, but you’ve got to be sixteen to drop out. It’s pulling me by the neck and waiting till I drown. Are you helping them again? I sat at the head of the table and cried for an hour, listening to the whispers of ghosts. We’re so poetically pathetic, and I’ve never even tried. I could feel the burning tears when I walked away, but a scowl’s better than make-up. Are we fighting again like the alarm clock and then we turn off at ten? It’s time to stop telling me how horrible I am, I received the newsletter from alone.
You never wrapped an arm around me and let me cry on your shoulder. But why should I do the same? I told you karma’s a bitch; well, she must be your twin. When you read my cries on this very page and promised you’d never do this again, am I so foolish to believe you? Or am I simply desperate?
I tried to laugh off the tears, but they only came out as chokes and splutters of never-be’s. Just like when you refused to listen, I’m always right in the end. You called it truefuckinglove and I said, “you’re quite foolish, my friend.” Do you expect these lies to come back as millions? Well, I hate to break it to you, but the public’s not as stupid as you seem.
The musicians plays truths, so the politicians can spin their lies. I think you mixed the two.
“This is the moment that you know
That you told her that you loved her but you don’t.
You touch her skin and then you think
That she is beautiful but she don’t mean a thing to me.
Yeah, she is beautiful but she don’t mean a thing to me.”