Why don’t you ask me how I’m doing
Why don’t you ask me how I feel
Why don’t you ask me if I still love you
Ask me if our love was ever real

Your boyfriend is using broken pencils
He’s trying to paint your portrait on cellophane
He whispers to you something about narcissism
He speaks so low, barely loud enough for you to hear
He said…

“It’s all about me it’s all about me
Enough about me, what do you think about me? It’s all about me”


Crisis is your idea of a good time
In defiance of all promises that you’ve made
Your indifference is subtle like a homicide
Your desperation cuts deep like a scalpel blade
I hear you thinking….

“It’s all about me, it’s all about me
Enough about me, what do you think about me?
It’s all about me Me! Me! Me!”