In your new leather jacket, you're somebody else.

It's not nice to meet you in a fortress of self.

Thanks to your new leather jacket, we're nobodies now.

Pack of cigarettes, I empty out.

I miss the way we talked before you went away to school.

Now all you seem to say is "Baby, how could it be you?"

I hate the way you're leaning and you're looking at your phone.

I hate the way I feel like dying when I'm alone.