I’m sorry to prove God wrong, I’m sorry to alter his plans. But in them I saw I was meant to leave you, and this is what I said:
“He’s my guilty pleasure, he’s my sweet revenge, he’s my get back at the world for not giving me what I’ve read.
The heart wants what the heart wants, when every string has been tugged and it’s hanging from a thread.
I’ve always followed in your steps, you’ve always been my conscious, but I’d rather it be his voice I find inside my head.”
I’m sorry to prove God wrong, I’m sorry to alter his plans, but in them I saw I was meant to leave you, and I think I’d rather die instead.