I was right that I was wrong: Hope you’ll concede at least that much and we can just move on. Like the traps set in the attic, I’m spring-loaded, I get goaded, I turn automatic.
I wasn’t like this when I was young. I was the nice kid on the bike, scared of no one. Aside from time, nothing bad happened. You choose who you’ll give your love to, but I turn automatic.
If a man can win your love, his only chance is giving up. I’ll have to lose you to convince you I didn’t care enough to miss you.
I’ve heard that life’s supposed to be hard. How else can we tell if we deserve to be who we are? The door latch, it cracks like static. Tomorrow I would follow, but tonight I turned automatic.