The Third Thing I Don't Mean

So maybe I miss you more than I breathe, but right now I hardly breathe at all.

They all think you're full of shit but I still think you're empty.

Throw me again and I won't let you catch me.

Keep your goodbye gift and leave me the present.

You don't need to frown if it's easier to smile - I already know both are fake.

Maybe if I cry a real tear you'll be a real friend.

So stab me when my back is turned, so kick me when I'm down - perhaps someday you'll realise that hate isn't a noun.