Cold
So here I stand, alone in this cold, and it's all your fault, not that you would know. Why did I go through all of this for you, when it's never really mattered what I do? And has it really come to this? The part where I'm jealous of her, and write about you, and think of how I wish it could be? And have I really stooped so low as to change myself for you, and though you don't notice, this disguise has become me? And is it too late to go back to the warmth, the truth, and who I really am? Because becoming this girl was never my plan. It's always been her, could never be me, and I guess it's really my fault that I was too stupid to see. So I know I can't blame you, but sometimes I do, because it's too hard to blame myself when I know the whole truth. So here I stand, all alone in this cold, and yeah, this whole mess is my fault, I know.