Talk show host

Even though he said spring would come early,
the snow still comes by the kilogram.
Ice and chills. Feverish thrills.
Skin touching the walls, and brushing up against you.
I saw you, I heard you. I can't quite get over it.
And I think you know.
I can tell by the look in your eyes,
and I'm such a girl when I look away.
Even when you want me to see you staring.

"You want me? Fucking come on and find me"
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

I need to stop this nonsense. It's only causing me trouble. When I try to focus on the real world, there you are again. Telling me you need it. Telling me everything. It's only a dream. It's only a dream. I'm not ready for this dream.
Not anymore.

Stop it! It's crazy!
You don't even know you're name.
You'd probably sell your soul for a dime.
Counting on me was the last thing you should have done. Don't expect me to be there the next day. Don't expect me to tell you I'm sorry. Monday came too late. You came too late. Put your head down now, you have someone new now. Doesn't she mean anything? Like I meant anything. Something. They don't give a fuck about you.
And I don't give a fuck about you.
And I'm not sorry for saying this one bit.

Even when I see you I laugh to myself,
and see you looking my way out the corner of my eye. I've moved on.
And I think you should too.