Someone's going to get to know the better you, when I was supposed to.
Why did it have to be you?
My heart's running out of cellotape.
It wasn't gonna be you.
I have a habit of searching for the damaged to share my love.
Now to unwind months of a good time.
People will tell me I messed up, and it wasn't love.
Whatever it was, it was wonderful, but nonfunctional.
I really hope I don't love you.
