I used to think one day we'd tell the story of us, how we met and the sparks flew instantly and people would say "they're the lucky ones". I used to know my place was the spot next to you.. lately I don't even know what page you're on. So many things that I wish you knew.. Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room and we're not speaking, and I'm dying to know is it killing you like it's killing me? How did we end up this way? I'd tell you I miss you, but I don't know how, I've never heard silence quite this loud.. And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now.