Well, you may not think about me, watching wildly romantic sunsets over the Pacific,
but I think of you, walking along the Seine. My mistake. I've been trying to rub you out
of my heart so long, the eraser is worn out.
I used to think we were in this together, that you had the same difficulties I did, just
better at hiding them. Now I wonder.
So have you convinced yourself I never meant anything to you?