And I'm through and through again.
You're on my mind, the things you said still rattle through my head.
It's no surprise what you've done this time.
I wish that you were dead.
But I'm torn in two, if I only knew the things that you never meant for me to hear.

How does it feel to know that everything you say is just a way for you to try and understand why all your friends are distant?
We're really wishing that you'd leave.

I'm the victim of your contradictions and criticisms.
They seem to never end.
You're so depressing, always neglecting everything you have.
I'm no concern to you, just one more past regret.
I wish we never met.

You've just been pushing away, and I've been athere before.