Feeling low, like IÂ’m ready crack
and slowly moving from bending to breaking.
I stay diluted to avoid the pain,
but I give her more than she can take.
IÂ’m only killing the only haven,
the still asylum I havenÂ’t destroyed yet.
And when itÂ’s gone, IÂ’m left with nothing.

This isnÂ’t what we counted on.
This isnÂ’t what we said itÂ’d be.
The fantasy is dead, and I cannot feel it.
This isnÂ’t what we counted on.
This isnÂ’t what we said itÂ’d be.
The fantasy is dead, and long forgotten.

I told her she was killing me
and she said she was already dead.
Every ounce of emotion fades,
and I promise you itÂ’ll end someday. I hope.
IÂ’m only hoping that this is common.
SheÂ’s all IÂ’m left with when all this fades away.
And when itÂ’s gone IÂ’m left with nothing.

This isnÂ’t what we counted on.
This isnÂ’t what we said itÂ’d be.
The fantasy is dead, and I cannot feel it.
This isnÂ’t what we counted on.
This isnÂ’t what we said itÂ’d be.
The fantasy is dead, and long forgotten.

She doesnÂ’t need it. She doesnÂ’t need it.
My optimism is masking my failure.

This isnÂ’t what we counted on.
This isnÂ’t what we said itÂ’d be.
The fantasy is dead, and I cannot feel it.
This isnÂ’t what we counted on.
This isnÂ’t what we said itÂ’d be.
The fantasy is dead, and long forgotten.