I could fill notebooks
Combine countless letters
Create hundreds of metaphors
All of that couldn't compare
All of that couldn't express this,
This leech of a feeling that's inside of me

I will sing songs written by different people
About different boys, but I'll pretend I wrote them for you
I will fill notebooks and waste ink out of my favorite pens to get off my chest what no one will ever know

I think this is love, unrequited
I'll try my best not to let it show
Even if it seeps from my tear ducts