We used to want each other.

Talked of love and marriage, 
house and a fly carriage.

Now we're breakin' plans to hold hands with new fans.

C'est la vie cheri. 

Morning texts. 

Now you've got that love tourettes.

Calling me names because you don't like what you painted.

Made me walk away,
that shit got so tainted. 

If it's easier to think the worst, 
do it. 

But you and I both know our true faults and failures.

There were no lies and def not in the eyes of other girls and guys, baby.

You were scared and paired with 12 months of waiting, my deep blue turned grey.

And you know I love to live in color.

So we do what we must.

Mock funerals and late nights filled with foreign lust.

I'll put flowers on your grave and I hope you do the same.

It was grand baby, don't regret a thing.