This is the moment that you know - that you told her that you loved her but you don't. You touch her skin and then you think, yeah, she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me. I wanted to believe in all the words that I was speaking, as we moved together in the dark. And all the friends that I was telling, all the playful misspellings, and every bite I gave you left a mark. Tiny vessels oozed into your neck and formed the bruises that you said you didn't want to fade but they did, and so did I that day. All I see are dark grey clouds in the distance moving closer with every hour. So when you ask "Is something wrong?" I think, "You're damn right there is but we can't talk about it now. No, we can't talk about it now." So one last touch and then you'll go and we'll pretend that it meant something so much more. But it was vile, and it was cheap, and you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me.

yeah you are beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me.