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Mere painful history

(After Lars WinnerbƤck)

You can easily go stomping once your foot is through the door.

Itā€™s easy to throw love to someone who can trust in whom itā€™s for

but not as easy being into those who donā€™t show what they feel.

Itā€™s been weeks since you last called me so I think I see the deal.

You have a way with words to make us sound like such a thrill.

You have this way of losing me when you feel youā€™ve had your fill.

You shelter me from rainstorm when you want and when you care,

then forget me in the downpour as if ā€œliā€™l meā€ ā€˜s not there.

Do I even mean something to you? Donā€™t hide from me.

Iā€™m waiting by the phone

when you canā€™t stand to be alone

so you turn to ā€œliā€™l meā€,

but one day Iā€™ll be out of sight as mere painful history.

As soon as I feel comfy in your smiling eyes on me,

your mouth has bitter words for me that bring calamity.

I doubt your words of ā€œbeauty of the deep pits of despairā€.

The sun has kissed your eyes and you have never been down there.

Autumn comes and once again your gaze is far away.

It comes across as part of this whole game you tend to play.

When darkness cloaks our town and then the wintertime is near,

I wave, but you donā€™t see me, and I shout, but you donā€™t hear.

Do I even mean something to you? Thatā€™s hard to see.

You play me as a game

and leave me with the blame

when you look at ā€œliā€™l meā€,

and one day Iā€™ll be out of sight as mere painful history.

You love is only red and youā€™re playing at romance,

I get all swept along with it, so easily we dance,

but one day itā€™s all enshrined as an old poem that youā€™ve read.

I canā€™t like you walk tightrope between both coziness and dread.

Time moves like the heart beats and just like the grape you see

on the vine gone rotten,

yeah, soon itā€™s all forgotten.

Poor dumb old ā€œliā€™l meā€.

Yeah, one day Iā€™ll be out of sight as mere painful history.

And worst of all: This song is from a girl, to me.