There was something that stopped me to begin with.
I don’t remember what it was, but it felt like lying.
She didn’t trust me, because I wasn’t how I am now.
She made me who I am now.
But she’s gone.
So who am I?

There was something that reminded me why we were
I don’t remember what it was, but it hurts.
When you’ve broken someone’s heart, who keeps the pieces?
If I have them, what am I expected to do with them?
Because I don’t know how to fix that sort of thing,
And she doesn’t want me to, anyway.
What do I do?

There’s something that told me it was supposed to end.
I know exactly what it was, and it was too familiar.
I couldn’t always be happy, and she couldn’t either.
And now I’ve perpetuated that.
She won’t feel happy for a long time.
But was it worth it?
How soon can I be happy again?

There’s something that everyone keeps telling me.
They tell me I’m a bad man -- I’m the killer.
I’m not a bad guy. I can’t be. That’s not me.
I never meant to hurt anyone.
I just wanted me to be happy.
Because I’m always looking out for number one, you know?
What happens when I’m not number one anymore?

What happens when I care enough to heal the next girl?
What happens when I realize I have to heal myself first?