Falling in love, like in a plastic bag 
Suffocating, lungs deprived of air 
Have to back off, I have to take care 
Not prone to romance, not Byron's heir 

Here is my heart -- take it and explain (how it works) 
It has stopped my soul from love 
Too many times before (too many quirks) 

Rumours of hollow shells 
Whispers in my head 

Dismal affairs, like infected scars 
Unable to mend, unwilling to open up 
Another afternoon in Wayne's coffee shop 
Not trying to love you, but trying to stop