I guess I never told you: I was never one to go backwards, and your words are just words.
I'm afraid to die in Staten Island, I can't lie to you.
But I'll never say I'm sorry for knowing when I've been true.
So say it like you mean it so I can forget that love isn't alive here and buried in my chest.
Say it like you mean it, but don't do it for me.
Forget this sense of urgency so I can sleep.
It's just a matter of time, so don't hold on.
I guess I never told you just how much I can do with my hands tied behind my back:
Just enough to hold my tongue long enough to know it hurts.
You said: "You said it yourself: 'I wouldn't miss me either.'"
So I don't feel a thing when I tell you it's over.
It's over.

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