You got a way of running your mouth. You rant and rave, you left it all out. The thing about it is, little that you say is true. . Why bother checkin', the facts'll be damned.
hate to see you bummin', but boy, I saw it comin'. That girl just wasn't meant for you. I see you goin' through 'em, and nothin' I can do. And I could kick myself for not tellin' you.