I heard you were working in a dungeon And you were learning how to tell the truth Some people say fiction is boring But where does that leave you? Sometimes I think that I made you up And that you only really live in my head Sometimes I think my imagination Wants me dead And I know that I should have never Let you up on my bed You left skeletons in the sheets And every book you read It didn’t leave much room for me I didn’t have a place The story just got worse and worse I can’t believe I stayed Sleeping on the floor, knocking on your door To see if you were awake Trying to decided between love and hate And what’’s real and what is fake I don’t know if I knew and I don’t know if I do And I don’t know how I feel about you