You would make me paintings And I would write you songs, But everything has changed And everything is gone.
Took your paintings off my wall because you wanted them back But I still write songs because you're fucking with my best friend. I wish things were different, oh oh oh.
You tried to give me that book made of moths And I never told you, I never did, That I fucking hate moths (fucking with my best friend.)
You would make me paintings and I would write you songs But now you're with that asshole and I have to move on.