Your glares are as cold as ice, your words are like knives, and they cut me deep.
It may not show on the outside, but on the inside I'm ripped and torn.
You blame it all on me; say it's all my fault.
Yes, I am partly to blame; yes it's partly my fault.
But you are to blame too.
You go around talking trash about me.
You spread rumors about me, you gossip about me.
I'm not saying I didn't do these things, some I did to an extent.
The worst part of it all is that you're not mature enough to take some of the blame.
I hope the people you talk to about me know that there is another side to the story.
I hope you figure out one day that this isn't all my fault.
And when that day comes I'll be ready and willing to talk about it.