I thought you were a diamond,
but it was just the lighting.
You are nothing but shards of broken glass.

I can't count the people I love on all of my bones,
there are too many fresh heart-breakers to intentionally leave out.
But I sure as hell love more plastic than I do gold.

When will I find someone as solid as a stone on a ring?
Rare gems are buried deep
and worth more than I could dare to keep.

Looks can be deceiving.
Too many golden people fall in love with sparkling trash
and no one cares as long as they are fooled.

The more I give away my fragile limestone heart,
the more it degrades under the watery admiration of cave tourists.

I sound like a *****,
and depending on who you ask, I probably am one.
But I deserve a love made of palladium, gold, silver, lapis,
something strong enough to withstand time
and sins of the miners that depend on my forgiveness.