I used to make wishes at 11:11,
I used to pick up pennies,
holding them tight for luck.
I used to believe in fate.
I used to believe that good things
happened to good people.

there's a word for people like that: naive.
because, "the truth is,
baby, the world is a cruel place."
he told me he was saving me,
sort of like saving a suicide
victim from a moving train.

because he told me he loved me,
because he told me the world was mine.
because he told me he'd do anything for me.
and I believed him.