You know who you are. You know who you are. How can you love me when you pitch a fit and act like you're still two years old? You're just a selfish fucking pig. You try to act all tough when I call, telling me you don't need any body. You pansy ass. I remember those nights that you would cry on the phone, talking about how fucked up your life was. Yeah, I remember laying in my bed with your head in my hands, while I wiped your tears away. I remember that slide, too. Lying there in your arms where you swore that you loved me from the moment under that street lamp. Fuck you. I don't need you, either. I don't want to need you, I don't want to have you. You're just a fucking waste of time. Maybe one day when you mature a little bit and pull your head out of your ass you'll realize that you aren't the center of the universe. Maybe.