More or Less the Sort of Shit Ex-Lovers Get Restraining Orders For

Hi, hi, it's me again
 Second time today, but this time with a plan
 Don't, don't be mad at me
 I was hoping we could talk and maybe flee
 Now the playground's closed
 We can go someplace somewhere else
 I could show you the smell and the sound of fresh cut grass
 So go get dressed
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 I, I respect your choice
 Yes, I read you, there's no need to raise your voice
 Go, go back inside
 We don't want to wake the neighbors or my Hyde
 I'm so tired of being a saint all by myself
 I guess you don't really know me all that well
 But I need help, I need help
 And to hell with these patterns and all those damn parallels
 How come no one wants to know me all that well?
 Please, do tell
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 If, if I slit my wrists
 I would bleed to death to show you I exist
 Don't, don't, don't call the cops
 Just tell me you don't love me and I'm off
 Well, I'll be off, I'll be off
 But I'll be back