Ballad of an over thinker

Count of three

I'm only in control when I'm drunk
Because these memories of you are locked in a bunk
And the only key is when I'm no longer sober
Because then I begin to realize why I said it was over
You hurt me
You bruised me
And you broke my heart
And only right now can I tell that apart
From the lies that you told so eloquently
And the pain you inflicted before a count of three