The guy who put his hands on you has got nothing to do with me. And the bruises that you feel will heal and I hope you’ll come around. Cause we’re missing you.
This, I guess, is to tell you you're chosen out from the rest.
That I would be good whether with or without you.
Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements? Even if it leads nowhere, or would it be a waste? Even if I knew my place should I leave it there?
I want to hold the hand inside you. I want to take a breath that's true. I look to you and I see nothing. I look to you to see the truth.
I think of her, but she thinks only of him. And though it’s a whim, she thinks only of him. Oh how long will it take till she sees the mistake she’s made?
And I've always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance. And up until now I have sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness. Because none of it was ever worth the risk.