So you want to be a real friend
But how could that be?
When you don’t even know
What the fuck the word means
It’s just another line
To try and win me back
To take care of all your problems
But you missed one important fact

I don’t believe a word you say
Empty promises
And flat out lies
So take your guarantees 
And stay away from me
’cause you’ll never agree
To do what you need
To win back lost trust from me

So you’re missin’ me now
And wishin’ you hadn’t walked away
But it’s too damn late for regrets
’cause it’s bullshit I don’t wanna hear
You’ve done more than your share
To try and break me down
Take your drama elsewhere
Honestly I no longer care

I don’t believe a word you say
Empty promises
And flat out lies
So take your guarantees 
And stay away from me
’cause you’ll never agree
To do what you need
To win back lost trust from me

Tired of your sorrys
Your sad apologies
From you those words are meaningless
You’re so long dead to me
Enjoy your personal hell
’cause your burnin’ there alone
I refuse to reach out my hand
I don’t give a shit no more

I don’t believe a word you say
Empty promises
And flat out lies
So take your guarantees 
And stay away from me
’cause you’ll never agree
To do what you need
To win back lost trust from me

Then I hear you want
To make things better
And you swear this time
I won’t regret it
And I feel sentimental
And hope for the best
But then I remember that 
Your word don’t mean shit 

I don’t believe a word you say
Empty promises
And flat out lies
So take your guarantees 
And stay away from me
’cause you’ll never agree
To do what you need
To win back lost trust from me

Will is an author and artist and producer (it’s only one indie short film but it’s on IMDB.com so it totes counts!) and founder of fetchentertainment.com and pain in the ass. He rather opinionated and has no problem sharing his thoughts on a variety of topics from the freakshow that was Election 2016 (how tf did Trump freaking win!?) to the importance of matching that belt to those shoes. He adores penguins and has a maniacal plan to use an army of them to take over the world and crown himself Emperor of All That Is (though he’d be happy with the Winter Russian Palace in what he would rename Mine!-Mine!-Mine!) but until then enjoys hiding away in his apartment and writing all sorts of tales that would worry that cokehead Sigmund Freud (really, we should believe he snorted for science!?) and drawing pictures of his creations.

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