Hello 1 o'clock, or good morning if you will. Not really good, more of a why?
Not really a should, more of a cry for help, as it seems, my insomnia is playing tricks on me.
1 o'clock; when I lye in bed thinking of all the things I should've said.
Why do you talk about her like you've known her for years? Water escapes from my eyes resembling fear. And why do you talk about all these other girls as if they're the ones who are giving you their love? It makes me so upset, when push comes to shove and I tell myself I should just shut up, but you make me want to never stop. Because you act like you listen and you say that you care but these words are repeated to every feminine ear.
It's not my fault you were born a charmer, it's my fault that, I wear your non protective love as armour.
I'm such a fool, but a fool who wants to fall for you.
Jealousy runs through my veins more than blood, oxygen is substituted with the love drug.
You make me feel like I'm enough and nothing all at the same time, you bring a presence of butterflies to my stomach.
I wish 1 o'clock would stop it.
This is the second time now that you have left me.
Abandoned, alone, asking myself why. Why am I such a creep?
Why couldn't I keep you?
This is the second time now that you have hurt me.
Emotionally and physically inflicted pain on my self.
And it's not your fault.
Do I just sit here and cry and drown in my own pathetic pity,
Just to be hauled up again by you telling me I'm pretty.
I shouldn't rely on your compliments to make me happy.
You make me happy.
Avoiding you is the worst thing I can do.
Shut my door and scream "who made me feel this sad?!" And the answer is you.
I don't want it to be you.
We're all fixated on finding the one, but
What if my one has another one?
I remember the second time you played for me,
The piano piece as beautiful as your big blue eyes
That My hobby was to stare into as you talked about nothing,
Hoping that one day we would be something.
How foolish of me to fall in love
With the girl I couldn't go a day without thinking of.
Now all the songs that you play, sound as minor as my brain.
And because I love you so much, no one can take away that pain.
— The End —