They say
"You should write bitchy songs"
And that love was passing
And that it's better this way.
They say
It's her fault
When I swear it was mine.

Criminal callousness
And a longing to be alone
Paid off
In a whirlwind of shock
And guilt, with touches of anger and pain.
What do I know of anger and pain?

They say
That she isn't worth the guilt
That she is stupid
That she will regret what she did

I HOPE SHE DOES NOT REGRET WHAT SHE DID
BECAUSE SHE HAS ESCAPED
And what I did was inexcusable
To even think that way of one who I'd once loved
Such bitterness I held against them all
And I have revised
And turned into such a terrific guilt

This kind of anger
Is something I'm not used to
Or rather it is, and I wish it were not.

What I have done is something for which I should be hanged.
My words have hanged a thousand hopes and dreams.
Some hopes and dreams have died inside her head
And in her head black thoughts of me remain.