I probably won’t talk to you

You seem to be tied up in romantic notions.
You seem to be tied up in romantic notions.
You can’t seem to get them out of your head.
I’m not gonna save you, no
I’m not gonna save you.
How could I possibly save you, when
I’m not sure how to save myself
from everything that’s happening?

We’re all in the same situation.
We’re all in different situations.
We’re all taking our position.
But time cares about none of that.
Time is taking everything away,
and time is catching up
to every single one of us.

Maybe one day you’ll be famous
– maybe one day you’ll be a star
(but I highly doubt it) –
keep shooting for the stars.
The stars aren’t gonna save you.
The stars aren’t gonna save you.
The stars are the worst possible
examples of success you
could ever imagine: they’re
burning at every end, and
they’re running out of ends
to burn, and they’re burning
so bright, they blind us.

We keep revolving,
getting tied up in
these romantic notions.
Why do you think that I
can save you? What
do I possibly have to offer?
You don’t even know me.
I don’t know myself, so
how could you know me?

I’m sorry, but I love you
nonetheless, now
leave me alone – I’m
dying at my own rate – I’m
planning my own funeral.
You can come if you like, but
I probably won’t talk
to you.

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