I know it's a cliché
When they say we were doomed before we could start
We were making no headway
But cold logic wont bring back the sound of your heart
It's probably too late now, so I won't try to taste it
everything that I love, I manage to waste it
Wish I could help you to hate me
You slice the wound and I'll pour in the salt
Alcohol makes the pain stay
But either way it's everybody's fault
And now when it rains, the trees send no comfort
I'll try to forget that everything's my fault
And I'll never call, it's such a mean distance
What once was before, I guess is now finished