I hate this song.

Speak with your tongue tied, I know that you’re tired.

But I just want to know, where you want to go

I may be sad, but I’m not weak.

This situation is bleak & your puffy eyes never lie

your tears come from inside.

Until Sunday I’ll be waiting for an answer

I guess that yesturday’s not good enough for you,

You know that I hate this song you know that I hate this song...

Because it was written for you.

Drown your fears with me, I’m feeling real sorry.

Your glossy eyes don’t need the sadness they have seen.

But you’re way too deep to swim back up again

But somehow I can’t find the moment you said goodbye.

Until Sunday I’ll be waiting for an answer

I guess that yesturday’s not good enough for you,

You know that I hate this song you know that I hate this song...

Because it was written for you.

This is becoming a problem I’m hurting it’s unfair

But somehow your words, the way that I heard are haunting me.

You’re under my skin, you’re breaking in

& the tasteless fights that filled our nights are starting to cave in.

You’re under my skin, you’re breaking in

& if Sundays what it takes to prove I have nothing else to loose.

NO HAGO UNA BIEN GENTE. Me siento horriblemente mal. Me imaginaba que la ‘felicidad’ iba a durar tan poquito. Me sacan mis viejos! Te extraño a vos. Lo quiero a él. Y ME SACAN MIS VIEJOS OTRA VEZ. (Odio los domingos, como no tengo nada que hacer, me dan tiempo de pensar Y NO QUIERO.)