Sometimes I wonder:
What would I do if I met you again?
Will I cry, try to hold you back?
Will I vent my anger, or keep staring at you?
In reality, though, we never got a chance,
To talk it through, to ask, why?
Why did we fall apart?
Guess you didn't wanna know, did you?
Did you, for even once, think about it?
What might have gone wrong with me?
Did you feel sorry for me?
Did you even feel anything at all?
I think we needed this talk —
I needed this talk.
Your sorry wouldn't have fixed me,
But at least, I could have had an answer.
Luckily, I did a full cycle: from loving you,
to cry for you, to blame you, to blame myself.
Truth is, I realised why you didn't choose me —
Even I wouldn't have chosen myself.
Shit — am I talking on my own again!
Is it the medicine or just me?
Lol, we are all mad, or maybe I am,
Mad, broken, but sober.