Falling in love, like in a plastic bag Suffocating, lungs deprived of air Have to back off, I have to take care Not prone to romance, not Byron's heir Here is my heart -- take it and explain (how it works) It has stopped my soul from love Too many times before (too many quirks) Rumours of hollow shells Whispers in my head Dismal affairs, like infected scars Unable to mend, unwilling to open up Another afternoon in Wayne's coffee shop Not trying to love you, but trying to stop