Tell me that I won't find myself in rioja.
I think you'd disapprove, but you pretend not to care;
I sobbed four years worth of guilt out, and ya
Can't reply to my texts like I could dare
To beg forgiveness over and over, once. I knew
I wasn't good - and I knew I could be, but you
Had me well believing I'd struck gold. Why don't
You tell me I was a mess? But you can't and won't,
Because I wasn't, and it's true that you are lost,
And I'd find you where it'd hurt you most.