and you really should mean everything you say

it's like you have an on and off switch
and it's mostly set to the opposite of mine
it's like we rarely see eye to eye
when i'm on, you're off and vice versa
and i was really hoping we'd both be on again yesterday
but i guess i thought wrong
do you know how infuriating you are?
every second is spent trying to figure out if you're lying or if you're being sincere or not
and right about now, i'm trying to figure out if you really meant everything that i thought you did a week ago.
please just give me a clue
i'm not a good phone operator, and i'll never be with all these mixed signals you've been sending.

"these hands are tied to pages inked to bring you back"

this heart is just a timebomb waiting to explode from over/no use
maybe if you weren't so indescribably different, so wonderfully infuriating, i'd be ok again.
but then again, when was i ever ok in the first place?

i'm sick in the head and the physical sense.
my stuffy nose and scratchy throat are just metaphors for the way my heart is squeezed in a million different ways when i see you.
maybe this is my punishment for falling in love.
or maybe it's just punishment for changing my mind and my heart as often as i change my clothes.

would it complicate things if i loved you again?

there's no use crying over the broken moon

those childhood sayings were supposed to teach me morals, but i never understand anything i'm meant to learn. so why should then be any different?
i think it's kind of funny how you think i'm listening
it's funny how you laugh at the truth that spills from my lips
but you're almost too eager for me to lie to you

and when did words start making sense?
when did i ever tell you that i wanted you to break down my walls?
now that you've tried, i've got to fix them
and god knows how long that'll take
because my walls might be made of glass, but that makes it so much easier to replace.

in case you're illiterate when it comes to reading between the lines, i can replace you.
i just haven't yet.

not everything is black or white, wrong or right
there's always a little bit of grey area
sometimes all i want is to succeed
but what's the penalty if i don't?
school is a loaded gun.
it fills you up with a bunch of crap and then shoots you into "the real world" without so much as a moment's notice.
what is the real world anyways?
the one i'm living in right now feels pretty real to me
but maybe it's all pretend if i'm not in the real world yet
if "anything is possible", why do we say things are impossible?
maybe i don't want to live up to your expectations
god knows i haven't already
blue's leaving me clues that i can't read
i bet she and magenta are having a good laugh at me
maybe the stars of the show change, but we're all just one living tv show/movie

sometimes i wish i could live in the past
if i was andie, would you be my duckie or my blane?

an angel in the sand is as close as i'll ever get to being heavenly
and i only wish you would see
i'm not all you've cracked me up to be

"i don't think i'll make it on my own..."

i miss the old days.
kindergarten queen and king for the rest of our days
you may not remember me, but i still remember you
scooby doo, where are you?
someone has my memories, and i'd like them back
staying home and watching cartoons all day
singing and playing and nap time and recess
being nice and taking all the chances that i could get
back to when the cookie-bears made me the coolest in school
and when anything could be fixed with a kiss and a kind word. (they still can, but not coming from just anyone anymore)
kindergarten best friends to two kids in different cities.
before the hoods and music came up and the niceness toned down
i've been a naughty girl for eternity, but no one knew until now
i'm kind of glad you haven't seen me since, but part of me wants to see you again before i go.

if we're playing russian roulette, i'm between wishing for the bullet and wishing for the one right next to it.
the clouds of heaven seem so nice compared to the fiery abyss of life
between faithfulness and not giving one about whatever they may say, just wanting to find something that works for me.
i'm still aggravated by the fact that no one can seem to read me.
but who ever truly gets anyone else anyways?
i think i'd put 7 bullets in the russian roulette if i someone knew me better than i knew myself.

i've figured it out:we only like hurting this much because it's so much easier to feel pain than to feel nothing. and we only hide it because no one else can accept that fact.
everyone needs a little bit of pain in their life for them to be truly happy.
everyone is willing to sacrifice something big for something not so important.
i don't know about you, but i'd rather get/give everything or nothing at all. take it or leave it. i can't give anything more, and i won't settle for anything less. i'm too stubborn to be cut out for all you say that i am, and i wish you wouldn't push everything you want onto me.
it's so much easier to be blissfully ignorant than to know everything, and yet we still want all the details on everything.
what's steve gonna do when blue doesn't want him to have all the clues?
what does superman do if lois lane doesn't want to be saved?

it's all a game of this or that, but i'd really much rather have both.