You make me forget what a joke I have become, For all the flowers that I didn't buy, For all the songs that I didn't write, For all the days I could've spent For all the months we could've shared the rent For all the dates on which I turned up late and For all the excuses I could have made, For all the calls I never made And all the attention I never paid For all the gestures ba*tardized by untruth And all the brittle promises I made to you For all the men you might have met And all the time we cried in secret For all the weeks we've been apart And all the times I said that it would start From here on in I'm sorry now