I ought to make things right before I leave;
Says it's not right leaving without a goodbye;
Yet I find he's always been the one leaving;
And his absence becomes more excruciating each time;
So, where's the right in that?

I can't seem to kick any of 'em out of my head;
They reiterate themselves over and over again;
And each time they do, they create yet another vehement war;
A war that picks away at me slowly— a little at a time;
And it looks like they've made themselves at home.