I really couldn't care less what you think
Well I don't have to listen now
Live this day down
If I can't feel a thing You might as well save your goodbyes
We can give this train wreck one last ride
If I don't make things right
I'll tell you one last time
I don't wanna know it's over , So save your goodbye kiss
I don't wanna know it's over , Cause ignorance is bliss
I can hardly see What's in front of me
Cause the vodka's running on empty
I can't stay sober, If it's over
I woke up with my heartbeat in my head
I reached for the bottle by the bed
I saw your side was not slept in
Cold sheets again
Remind me of what you said
We need to take a break for a while
It's been so long since I smiled
Don’t Tell Me, I Don’t Want to Know
UNLESS you are my best friend or my husband, I don’t need to know the macabre symptoms of your gastrointestinal virus. I don’t need to know about how much candy anyone, other than me, has eaten.
There are things I’d rather just not know about you.
Yet I, like most people, have become inundated with Too Much Information about the people I know and the people I wish I didn’t know but am now acquainted with. It’s as if we’re all trapped at a permanent reunion with everyone we ever bumped into at a street fair or waved to mistakenly in the cafeteria.
“The entire world has become this Dickensian series in which you are not visited by three ghosts but by eight million ghosts,” said Sloane Crosley, author of “How Did You Get This Number.” “I feel as if I see things about people that I don’t necessarily want to see, and then it’s lodged like a piece of corn in my subconscious.”
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