The Thrill Is Gone

Tired of pretending that this will work
I’ve abandoned the thought that there might be a chance
I feel myself drowning, I’m going berserk
At the idea that I must end this bad romance

Tired of pretending that this will last
The circumstances are not really the reason for fail
But resentment and contempt never really quite pass
And instead of in love I feel like I’m in jail

The storm is over; what’s left is debris
The remnants of promises broken at me
The cleanup itself is enough to reveal
The lack of desire to try and rebuild.

 

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