Complicated

You've been talking for a long time but it's like you never listen.

It's like this world is yours, you're judging everyone.

Yet you don't give up, you hold on to yourself.

So how depressed are you on the nights you lose yourself?

Wait, I'm calling your name.

I sing songs about how great it was bleeding for you.

Nothing you do makes any sense.

You can tell by the tone of your voice.

With your slightest movement.

You make me happy and sad.

It's pretty complicated because I don't understand why my laughing at you is actually my crying.

What you are talking about is not what you really want to understand.

You just take other people's sentences and make them your own.

When I gave you the power to ruin me.

I can't imagine that I will regret it.

Promises I made when I was happy.

The words that come out of my mouth when I'm unhappy.

My past is my regret.

Why has it been reflected so far?

You were right, I was wrong.

Why am I like this?