[Verse 1]
You shattered my heart into a million pieces,
you left me in the dark and then moved on so quickly.
The chipped mug on the sill remembers how you smiled,
polaroids curl at the edges like secrets gone wild.
The hallway light still flickers where you closed the door,
your jacket hangs by the stairs — the zipper I ignore.
I count the hollow echoes of the things you used to say,
and every quiet corner keeps replaying yesterday.
[Pre-Chorus]
I wish you the worst of luck, yes, the worst of luck,
may the nights you sold me swallow every crooked pluck.
There’s a question carving clean through the rust and steel:
was it an act, or did you ever really feel?
[Chorus A]
Was it real? Was it really real?
The spark in your eyes — did you mean to steal?
Was your touch the truth, or a line to seal?
Tell me now: was it really real?
[Verse 2]
I gave you my heart and you threw it on the ground,
coffee stains like constellations where our promises were found.
You left a note that says “I’m sorry” with a pen that’s out of ink,
I trace the loop of your letter and I watch the edges sink.
What did I do to deserve shit like that? I ask the empty hall,
my shadow answers softly, only dust and curtain calls.
[Pre-Chorus]
I wish you the worst of luck, yes, the worst I hope you find,
may your sleep keep the echoes of the warmth you left behind.
Still that single question keeps me pacing in the rain:
was any of this honest or were you just playing game?
[Chorus B]
Was it real? Was it really real?
The way you looked at me — was that the deal?
Was it something true or a careful steal?
Tell me now: was that ever really real?
[Bridge]
You broke my heart but I still love you though — that truth
sits like a stone inside my chest, heavy, uncouth.
I’m tired of living in the dark; I flip the switch and stare:
I burn the folded letters, let the smoke thread through the air.
I don’t want threats or endings carved in bitter prose,
I want one clean answer before the coldness grows.
So here’s the choice — come out with light, or leave the night to me:
say what you felt, or let the silence finally be.
[Chorus C]
Was it real? Tell me — did you mean it?
The fire in your eyes, was it something I could keep?
Was it a lie wrapped tight in midnight’s wheel?
Tell me now: did you mean it? Was it real?
[Outro]
All the things you said to me — was any of it true?
I wish I could know how you truly feel, but I refuse to lose
my nights to questions that dissolve without reply.
So say it plain, or let the curtain fall and let me walk on by.
Was it real? Was it really real? — I’ll hold the answer like a scar,
learn to stitch the broken edges and become a brighter star.
