I want to cut off all my hair and go out walking in the cold, carve myself a new hole and talk just like before. I want to starve myself off blankets and sleep here on the floor, oh god don't let this be love. Stop calling me your lover and we'll stop talking on the phone, such a pretty voice just makes me miss the dial tone. I'm going to rip out my own heart who so clearly has betrayed my quest for being lonely and my promise of the same. If I had a choice, and I'm only partly sure I do, I'd gather all my things and I'd leave town and I'd leave you. Take up residence just off the coast and drown a year or two. Oh god don't let this be love
If winter fell upon me I'd be outside in the snow. Not thinking about your red hair no not missing you at all. I'd light up a new bad habit and start talking in the night and if I ever though of you I'd say I still think I was right. The bird at my new window would soon be outside my new door asking me for flowers and of what had come before. I'd do my best to tell her that I've never been in love but god I'm not so sure. I took to writing postcards saying greetings from the coast, it's a shame I've lost your address but I'm sure by now you've moved. And so I'll never get the chance to see your new home up in flames but if I had a match you can be certain that would change.