"I've never felt the lovin' of a man
but it sure felt nice when he was holdin' my hand."

And I wonder if men are really capable of love, of un-adulterated, selfless interest in another person, true care and concern. Gnawing somewhere at the tips of my fingers is the belief that you listen more than I know. Pulling on the stitches that hold me together, the broken nerves at every scar, is the familiar comfort of knowing that they all lie.

"Just gonna stand there and watch me burn?
Well that's alright because I like the way it hurts.
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry?"

Well that's alright because I don't expect any more. I don't expect you to last, to stay, to come back. I'm stuck here with the feeling that every(thing) I want never wanted me. And so I no longer want. It wouldn't change anything if I were to say that I wanted you to last, I wanted you to just maybe be the one, that I wanted to make it work. Circumstances wouldn't change, fate still rules.