Second hand smoke can **** you
But so can second hand love
Like a jumper on top of a building
'Til someone gives him a shove

You compare me to the way he was
Yet you never mention his name
But everytime I don't stack up
I'm the one that you blame

I see the way you look at me
With that cold and empty stare
Holding me and thinking of him
While wishing he was there

You talk about our future
While living in the past
I tell you how much I love you
You tell me I'm moving too fast

I die a little more each day
Because it's him you're thinking of
It's such a painful way to die
This thing, called second hand love