But a song comes onto my iPod And I realize it's getting late
And I can't take the staring And I don't like the questions "How do you feel?" "How's it going in school?" And "Do you wanna talk about it?"
And I'm trying to forget you In a thousand years, or maybe a week Burn all your pictures, and cut out your face
The shutters are down and the curtains are closed And I've covered my tracks Trying to forget even your name and the way that you look