I know you write songs about me

It's the midnight.
You're still up.
You bet my wounds still hurt.
I lie in my bed, that's not larger, than yours.
All the gals in your arms turned your blue flames to red,
and I guess your friends think they are better than me.
 
You watched me tried to match with all your business standards.
They watched you stepping back, when the subject's not you.
Family dinner, we talk about things we've been through.
You could give us the word, but you always don't have a clue.
 
It's too late to fix what is over.
No reason to stay and believe,
but I grabbed my things, waved goodbye, I was ready to leave.
I know you write songs about me.
 
You act again.
Look surprised and so innocent.
You'll complain to all your friends I am pathetic and mean,
but as soon as I get in taxi cab last time on your street -
you'll show your teeth.
You'll grin,
and I know you'll write songs about me.
 
I know, what I said,
that love hurts it's hard to pronounce.
You took my phone, threw it on the floor,
but take you glasses on -
the snow is just melting.
You used to steal the show,
there wasn't a second I was on my own.
 
Miss dark hair, blue eyes, cherry lips
I've been like this since 19.
 
Now you're known in the world,
holding onto your soul.
Scared to be black and blue, scared to seem old,
though I tried to get rid of all your ups and lows,
but I can't cause you're everywhere I go.