Do what I hate, say what I love,
mind’s full of air, heart’s full of mud
O, great, this bowl of bitterness
Sometimes, spills over, fills your cup,
Don’t want to be left alone,
But won’t drag you down to my rut.
Your heart doesn’t bleed for me,
No need to paint it red.
You’re not full of pain,
You need to leave my bed.
Some days I sing sad tunes,
But not to see you cry,
Using only words I muster,
In lonely hours,
not so shy.