Blind on a ledge, not a thing, not a,
Road of broken heart, not a thing, not at all

You know,
Of things we hear, nothing's there, nothing.
She said "why do you watch me?" said 'why?'
You know,
Maybe a good excuse not to give a fuck.
But I, care for you, said alright.
Could be a good excuse.

Full of love, just returned, just when..
You lied, it hurt and your pride, your pride.
Hurt pride.

And it is, not a thing, not a, you
It hurt, nothing, and me.
It is, these games are nothing

Maybe a good excuse not to give a fuck
But I,
But I don't want you, and don't want me.
These, games, are nothing.

Writer : MCCRACKEN, ROBERT C./STEINECKERT, BRANDEN/HOWARD, JEPH
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing