Stayed up till 6, only to wake at 11 with the news: "I don't think it would work out between us, Bre"

Well, I'm glad that's off your shoulders, I'm pretty sure it was there all along
I just hope everything goes as fucking plan.
While I lay here, lifeless and float away
you'll find me dead in the fucking sand.

Self-medicate till you go away
it won't be hard to find a replacement.
Just one that means the same, feels the same.
And even though I fucking hate you, I'll always love the memories [the ones you fucking stepped on today]

So good luck with your fucking fill-in
I hope you find shit I couldn't give
and while you suck face and fuck the days away
I'll be dying to live..

By the way, I give up on my 'masterpiece' it would've been stupid.