| What you did to me made me see myself
|
| Something different
|
| And though I try to talk sense to myself
|
| But I just won’t listen
|
| Won’t you go away, turn yourself in
|
| You’re no good at confession
|
| Before the image that you burned me in
|
| Tries to teach you a lesson
|
| What you did to me made me see myself
|
| Something awful
|
| A voice once stentorian is now again
|
| Meek and muffled
|
| It took me such a long time to get back up
|
| The first time you did it
|
| I spent all I had to get it back, and now it seems
|
| I’ve been out-bidded
|
| My peace and quiet was stolen from me
|
| When I was looking with calm affection
|
| You were searching out my imperfections
|
| What wasted unconditional love
|
| On somebody
|
| Who doesn’t believe in the stuff
|
| You came upon me like a hypnic jerk
|
| When I was just about settled
|
| And when it counts, you recoil with a cryptic word
|
| And leave a love belittled
|
| Oh what a cold and common old way to go
|
| When I was feeding on the need for you to know me
|
| Devastated at the rate you fell below me
|
| What wasted unconditional love
|
| On somebody
|
| Who doesn’t believe in the stuff
|
| Oh, well |