I tried to be a passenger, in this thing that they call love.

I couldn’t get too comfortable in what I knew so little of.

I know now, what I didn’t know, and for that there is a price.

I am just a little jaded now but I’m probably twice as nice.

There is a freedom in the knowledge that looks like you don’t care.

You look so cold and selfish, but you never learned to share.

I knew you, like few do, and there’s no prize for that.

Just older in the knowledge, that we’ve had this little chat.