Cry me a tear and sing
of how your heart is aching.
Tell me how you can’t deny
the sobs that you sit to cry.
Cry me a stream as you
practice your so awful hurt.
Perhaps a little mascara
and pulling out your hair.
Cry me a river as you hear
that I, personally, do not care.
And that there are more that see
that you’re no more true than me.
Yes, I’ve told the story before
and no one knew the wiser.
But now they know the lies
that you sit there and cry.
I’ve said it before but
it could stand a repeat.
Stand in front of me, right here
and cry me a river.