You asked me that day
if you, by any chance,
Were turning into them.

Well now i say yes,

Chances are fine,
All are worthy of one.
But surely none,
After you trample hearts
And break vow.
And still come by asking
For your fault.

Well now I say,
The fault lies in me,
The fault line is me.

My foolish heart and will
To have something good after 
All I have seen and known is
Your worst and the horrible

Its me who eventually
Fall low and lower when 
Every time you greet
All the promises to never let you go
Leave and we are back for a fresh round
But all the time I wish to have it end differently
But all the time I forget it is a loop

We move in circles.
Scratch that.
I move in circles
For I have never dared to look past
Your mere glance which I could surely be given by a popstar
And my foolish mind puts it equivalent to yours

I have enslaved to be refuged
In the glances and games
Circles and flames
And perhaps these words might move me on
Might make you see,
(If ever by a fluke you happen to find your way here)
That it is about time we call quits
.
.
.
.
.
.
About time I call quits