You make me forget what a joke I have become,
For all the flowers that I didn't buy,
For all the songs that I didn't write,
For all the days I could've spent
For all the months we could've shared the rent
For all the dates on which I turned up late and
For all the excuses I could have made,
For all the calls I never made
And all the attention I never paid
For all the gestures ba*tardized by untruth
And all the brittle promises I made to you
For all the men you might have met
And all the time we cried in secret
For all the weeks we've been apart
And all the times I said that it would start
From here on in
I'm sorry now