Here I am again, writing in my car, and this time I can't pretend that we are friends. We're not friends, friends don't do the things we did and the ones you've done since then makes think we've never been.
When is this night gonna end? Are you lying in her bed? All these questions hit my head.. Hey where's the whiskey at again?
You were discombobulated when you showed up at my door, leaving glitter on my floor. *But I don't like you anymore.