this frame once held my favorite picture   but now it's empty, now it's broken   and that's how you left my chest   hallowed out by your hands    where you dug a grave and laid    your memory to rest      i hate the way you say i told you so   this is for all the wilted pedals on the floor   this is for a waste of a dozen roses maybe more      this should have ended with the kiss   that you left on someone else's lips   which turned my heart inside out   you left it looking much the same   a motionless mass of muscle and vain   as i clean up this mess you've made      so as i sing you to sleep   i hope my ghost haunts your dreams   lost in your memory   as bad as it seems      i hate the way you say i told you so   this is for all the wilted pedals on the floor   this is for a waste of a dozen roses maybe more   this is for how you never deserved    nothing more from a rose than the thorns      so twist the knife    fashion me counter clockwise   turn back time   forget you never were mine   (with this knife i will cut    the last piece of you from me   the razor blades will separate   any connections we've made   but there's complications   in the operation   that keeps me from forgetting your face   but come tomorrow i'll rid the sorrow   from within my heart which you plagued)