he
with the black shirt he wears
and the black cloth around his wrist
with all his pain and agony,
white lies through fake smiles
got me.

there's a game:
whoever feels the most loses.
we both knew the rules
he is an expert, i was new
and i thought i could learn.
i am losing.

every night he gets drunk
on his tears, on drinks,
in his despair, with alcoholics,
on lips that aren't mine,
and i tell myself i'm fine.

i can't feel for you, i tell them
the rules say it's forbidden,
but beneath the coy smile
and my own white lie,
i know i do.
and i'm losing.

hey you, i care
and you say the same of me as well.
but i mean my words with all my heart,
yours just run on the surface.

i'm not fine. i'm losing.
and i'm so tired of depriving
my heart to feel,
and the seams are tearing
from all the strings pulling.

hey you, if it means you keep your smile,
your laugh, and your warmth,
i'll hold your hand through all the lies
and believe i'm fine.