These bridges that are so easily broken are rebuilding themselves.
Will you meet me in the middle so I can find myself?
Chorus:
Now you've drawn this imaginary line
cutting me off from you
(So what am I supposed to do?)
So what am I supposed to do?
I would give up everything to reach the heart inside of you
(To reach the heart inside of you)
I can honestly say it was never meant to end,
drawing these black lines;
plotting your jaded meridians.
Was it everything you wanted?
Was it everything you thought it'd be?