Everything is moving so fast and I wish you didn't think you liked me and I wish you didn't think you loved me because I'm tired of spending my evenings speculating what made you think otherwise

Does one manufacture feelings?

Your body is a feeling's factory and I'm afraid you've fired all your underpaid workers

I'm weaving my way into your factory but it's just not working

Nonetheless, I am tired of being locked out of your office (the heart)

And I believe that organs are chambers that one chooses to close

But *******, how'd I begin to feel this way