(After Lars Winnerbäck)
You can easily go stomping once your foot is through the door.
It’s easy to throw love to someone who can trust in whom it’s for
but not as easy being into those who don’t show what they feel.
It’s been weeks since you last called me so I think I see the deal.
You have a way with words to make us sound like such a thrill.
You have this way of losing me when you feel you’ve had your fill.
You shelter me from rainstorm when you want and when you care,
then forget me in the downpour as if “li’l me” ‘s not there.
Do I even mean something to you? Don’t hide from me.
I’m waiting by the phone
when you can’t stand to be alone
so you turn to “li’l me”,
but one day I’ll be out of sight as mere painful history.
As soon as I feel comfy in your smiling eyes on me,
your mouth has bitter words for me that bring calamity.
I doubt your words of “beauty of the deep pits of despair”.
The sun has kissed your eyes and you have never been down there.
Autumn comes and once again your gaze is far away.
It comes across as part of this whole game you tend to play.
When darkness cloaks our town and then the wintertime is near,
I wave, but you don’t see me, and I shout, but you don’t hear.
Do I even mean something to you? That’s hard to see.
You play me as a game
and leave me with the blame
when you look at “li’l me”,
and one day I’ll be out of sight as mere painful history.
You love is only red and you’re playing at romance,
I get all swept along with it, so easily we dance,
but one day it’s all enshrined as an old poem that you’ve read.
I can’t like you walk tightrope between both coziness and dread.
Time moves like the heart beats and just like the grape you see
on the vine gone rotten,
yeah, soon it’s all forgotten.
Poor dumb old “li’l me”.
Yeah, one day I’ll be out of sight as mere painful history.
And worst of all: This song is from a girl, to me.