Dear Catherine, Writing you must be the hardest thing I ever did Forgive me, I couldn't tell you that I felt so complicated Release me Thought you'd help me with the voice inside my head But I was wrong I could tell you 'bout the many nights I spent alone And about all the insecurities that I have known But I just want to close my eyes, I'm so tired Think I've been talking to myself too many nights I am sorry, I am sorry (There's) nothing left for me to say I am sorry, I am sorry That I had to end this way This is my suitcase packed for better times And this is my favourite blade To cut me up on a Saturdaynight I guess these are the signs Did I mentions I've got a rare collection of dreams Hidden underneath my bed And wrapped in a newspaper in that old drawer Are all the words we never said Now we're at the end of the line I have to say I would have given it all for you But to end the line that's what I'm gonna do That's what I'm gonna do