So, my love, has your patience dissolved, grown complacent and stalled, curled up into a ball? Has your conscience said, He won't get over again, won't find me at the end of his terrible fall? Can you soon forgive being played like a sieve, after all that you did, left with nothing at all? Soon you'll realize you got out just in time, got the next one in line, got past all of the walls. If you knew me so well, then I'd think that you'd know better than to turn to someone else when I'd just told myself that she knows me so well.
So, my dear, it's been almost a year. Has new love persevered? Have true paths remained clear? Has he been the man who complies with demands, no improvising of plans, devoted, faithful, sincere? Leaving you alone unless you telephone, unless you make it known he's allowed to be near? When you can't fall asleep, do you still think of me? And whose face do you see when you look in the mirror? If you knew me so well, then I'd think that you'd know better than to turn to someone else when I'd just told myself that she knows me so well.