When I was a kid, I used to pick myself to pieces trying to find the part that was wrong.
I guess I thought it’d stop at some point, but I find myself reflecting on every little thing I’ve ever done,
tracing back the footsteps to where I lost you.
I guess it has to be me, but it’s the same elementary game,
Molding myself to meet your needs until I don’t know where you end and I begin,
So when you leave you take a part of me.
I will try to fill the space with whatever I was missing and I will play this game again with some new player who won’t tell me the rules.