You look at me, you think you know me; you want me maybe because something about me intrigues you. But what happens after you have me? You're gonna leave me, one day you're gonna realise I'm not as great as you think I am. Just like the rest of them.
But I don't want you. I won't ever want you. There's nothing here for you. I don't even think there's any of me for anybody.
Everyday is just a struggle between remembering and forgetting. I don't think the issue here is whether I can forget anymore; I think it's more of whether I want to.
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