The records spread across my floor make me insecure
'Cause they're all bigger than me, than me
Until I write one more
So I cut out the faces on my favorite magazines
Trade Justin Bieber for a pic of me
And now I'm talking to the mirror
Like, "Oh, God, what's wrong"
I'm talking to myself again
And now I'm talking to the mirror
Like, "Oh, God, what's wrong"
I'm talking to myself again
I don't hate Houston
It just makes me feel small
And there's not exactly protocol
For when everything changes when you're gone
I wake up every morning to a debut
Brand new episode of "I Hate You"
Punching walls and hoping for a breakthrough
I just need somebody new to talk to
(Who's not me, 'cause I'm-)
Talking to the mirror
Like, "Oh, God, what's wrong"
I'm talking to myself again
And now I'm talking to the mirror
Like, "Oh, God, what's wrong"
I'm talking to myself again
And now I'm talking to the mirror
Like, "Oh, God, what's wrong"
I'm talking to myself again
And now I'm talking to the mirror
Like, "Oh, God, what's wrong"
I'm talking to myself again