Am I always going to be just a stranger to you?
You pretend to love me, then drink the night away.
The next morning, you wake up wondering where you are, and how you got there.
You call me asking for me to pick you up.
Worry takes over me and I jump in the car in my pajamas, driving to get you.
You say nothing.
Like I've done nothing for you.
I'm done.
I'm over it.
I block your number,
and stop talking to you.
After a week,
You'll find yourself drunk,
calling me,
only to get sent to my voicemail.
