Smashed upon my heart's content,
rusted out and has a million dents.
What felt so beautiful at the beginning,
turned so ugly as I watched the ending.
A cold, buried thought, tucked away,
I didn't think it would last anyway.

"You're not the one, but you're the only one,
to make me feel like this.
You're not the one, but you're the only one,
to make me feel like shit."

Cradling the fright of those diabolical words,
waiting for the corruption, dying of urge.
It's the way things go and I cannot argue,
To escape the pain, I'd accept the flu.
So I walk with my head down, in the night,
I look for her to be watching me ... yeah, right.

"You're not the one, but you're the only one,
to make me feel like this.
You're not the one, but you're the only one,
to make me feel like shit."

So if I look at it through a different vision,
this might not be a bad idea to be livin'.
All I'd do is put my heart in it too much,
at least it won't drag out, yet I still dream of the touch.
So if the monsters of my destiny feel it necessary to claw my pride,
tell them not to waste their time, but to just start on my insides.

"You're not the one, but you're the only one,
to make me feel like this.
You're not the one, but you're the only one,
to make me feel like shit."