It's killing me and IT'S YOU.

I'm in my bed under my soft blanket, but my skin feels weird.
It's missing something, like something is gone.

It's killing me and IT'S YOU.

You should be here and touch me. You should be wanting to be close to me. You should be crazy about every inch of me, because you are what gave me strength.

It's killing me and IT'S YOU.

So now what? I don't know what I'm doing! I don't know if my outfit is pretty or if my food tastes good. I don't know the simplest things cuz you're gone and I'm empty.

It's killing me, and IT'S YOU.

But you don't care; you're busy with yourself. Busy not loving me, busy not missing me.

It's killing me, and IT'S YOU.

And then later you'll call and tell me you're sorry and that you love me; to play with my heart again.

And it's killing me, and IT'S YOU.

-Sep. 1st, 2006