Its nights like tonight that make it,
A little harder to breathe,
When I think about how,
You must have never loved me.

And I’m willing to say that I’m a mime,
In a box full of rainbow colors,
Speaking, which I never should have done,
And laughing at the truth,
In the echoes I find.

A puppet on a string,
Or a million different things,
That were never just enough,
But always too little,
Or too much.