In your new leather jacket, you're somebody else.
It's not nice to meet you in a fortress of self.
Thanks to your new leather jacket, we're nobodies now.
Pack of cigarettes, I empty out.
I miss the way we talked before you went away to school.
Now all you seem to say is "Baby, how could it be you?"
I hate the way you're leaning and you're looking at your phone.
I hate the way I feel like dying when I'm alone.