They've got me boxed up in a situation
right after you've told me to pour my heart out to the world.
Even though you were a full-time robot,
nonetheless, a part-time daydream lover for me.

Three years gone and I still miss you.
I might still love you, darling, I do.
And when he asked me if I was over you,
I'm not sure whether I was trying to convince him or my own self by saying yes.

He is toying with me now, in ways you never would.
Somehow I let him, in an attempt to fill your void.
But my heart is heavy. God, I'm drained.
Three years gone, would you still have the energy to save me again?

Because they've got me boxed up in this situation,
and I cannot fathom how to get out.
I'm weaker than I thought, weaker than you thought.
I guess I'll be spending my entire life finding my way back to you.

How do you get over the past that has shaped you,
the past that has taught you how to feel, how to be?
I'm coming to grips now with the bitter fact that
you've become this dead part inside my living body
that I'd take desperate measures to merely revive.