Those three little words are too easy to say
and are said too often. You've stained my vision blue
with that repeated lie – but you can say night is day
a million times, and it still won't make it true.
If I died, you'd stand up in the sight of the congregation
and God and tell them you loved me – if justice was served,
lightening would strike you. Perhaps you feel an obligation
to sprinkle these pretty confetti lies; perhaps you think I deserve
to hear something said that confirms my existence and importance
in the world. But all you are doing is making a liar and a fool
of me – your pantomime romance and constant insistence
that you love me only provokes another lie: "I love you too".