The truth is that truth is useless It's not as tangible as fact Not so simple and dramatic So let's compare and contrast the truth with the facts Until it's too hard to understand love or empathize with anybody because It's all algebra to me Compelled by a tendency to disassemble everything And now that it's over I can say that I called it Predict that you'll fuck up You can claim you're a prophet I feel like a dick now For writing these words down For having these feelings Still fucking the new girl But I still think about you whenever I'm alone Now this house feels haunted when nobody's home And I suspect you know the feeling Hardly ever sleeping Staring at the ceiling in my room I miss you when I drink but I miss you when I'm sober Miss you in my sleep and I miss you hung over And I miss you every day I miss you every night Yeah I miss you when I listen to Allison Weiss I think about you all the fucking time