Maybe you should've given me a shot,
Instead of living up the reputation you've got now.
So while I'm never crossing your mind,
I'm hoping we never cross paths.
Everything in this room has a memory,
From my records to my pillows to the pen in my hand.
This is the last time a whore leaves an imprint
Like footprints in the sand.
You will always be your mother's daughter,
No matter how hard you try to deny the facts.
From the arrogance to your ignorance to your lack of a heart.
I bet you never imagined the artillery I had packed.
You're right; you're not/will ever be what I need.
Let's face it: does anyone really need you?
There's more to life than clubs and hook-ups, princess.
There's love in the beauty of the "fuck you," too.
This is for holes punched in walls due to passion.
This is for being given up on like last Fall's fashion.
We are the trees that don't change colors.
We are the sidewalks with initials forever carved.
We are the words at the tip of your tongue.
We are that empty gut feeling that will be forever starved.
We are the future.
(and you guys are fucked.)