He was a boy and I had a star to hang myself on if he let go. So, I shook his hand and put up a fight and let him decide if I could ever be right. And he said: "I was a tortured child from the start. the pain in my head matched the emptiest heart. A pen in my hand was my deadliest sin. The words flew out while the rest stayed in." Don't feed me lines about your abstract heart. Don't you care how this all feels in the morning? Don't feed me lines about your abstract heart. Don't you care how this all feels when you pretend? Spare me the empty-handed surprises and watch where you swoon when you're standing on me. If there is a word that shows you're in love, don't choke on the sound as it spills from your throat. Don't feed me lines about your abstract heart. don't you care how this all feels in the morning? Don't feed me lines about your abstract heart. Don't you care how this all feels when you pretend?