You stayed over, you made the bed, locked the door, and you're gone.

You texted me, as if nothing has happened.

Good time (and timing), good vibses,

Good conversation, and of course, good sex.

It's getting comfortable being with you, 

Your accent is not that hard to recognize anymore,

we share similar backgrounds and family issues,

we share music to each other, and you also know all the composers that I like,

And I played them for you, the one you wanted to listen to.

But I'm struggling with others, and it splits me to pieces.

Like I always screw my life all the time,

no exception for this time.