The weekend is close to the end atlas
and all I hope for was for it to last
Why do I feel such an outcast?
Why didn't I have such a blast?
It feels great to be at your wit's end
It feels great to be someone whom no one calls
There's no need to pretend
I'm the only one here who falls
Here she is with her utmost lies
Why do I feel terrible every time she cries?
Why do I feel hurt to even acknowledge that feeling when it dies?
Please, let it not be her demise