Are you sure you want to be with me?
Are you sure you don’t want two kids and a white picket fence?
Cus I don’t.

Are you sure you want to be here?
Are you sure you want this barren scape in a desert land?
Cus I do.

Are you sure you want to be in this?
Are you sure you want this deadly mind, and dying body?
Cus I don’t.

Can you make me want me like I used to? Can you make me love me like I used to? Can you take me back to the simple times?

When the thought alone was nearly enough.
Now I’m drowning in boatloads of them. But still can’t get enough. “Are you sure?” I’m sure.