One day, when you've moved on too,
and I'm part of your history -
because, in the end, they always do -
will you think of me?
I'm too intense. It scares people away.
That's their excuse.
They just don't bother - do not want to stay.
You can't make them, and so it's no real use
to beg or cry, or even calmly tell
them just how much you care.
You must not scream, and must not yell
that it's not bloody fair.
It isn't, though - but tell me:
When you've moved on too,
will I be ancient history
and will you remember that I said
that I'll never forget about you?
That when I tell you that I care - it's true.