Every Time I Throw Coins In The Fountain I Secretly Wish You Were Dead

I woke up in pieces,
Because of you and the things you do
And every song i write,
They all sound the same and your to blame
So i'll take a holiday, from hating you,
And you won't even exist,
Your off my list of people that i give a shit about and i'm all out of words to say
Your part of yesterday and yesterday is gone so i moved on. so i'll pretend that your dead, nothing left to be said except a eulogy which read:
You were a shitty friend and in the end i'm better off without you.
I can't think of one good thing that came about from knowing you.
So i'll lay flowers on your imaginary grave and never speak your name, while your memory rots and fades.