The langue I did not speak you thought I did well, was the one thing I faild to say,

I thought I knew the langue, I thought I understood the background,

the way the words role off the tounge.

We spoke it togerther and held your hand through it all

because the last person you knew tought you wrong.

I wanted to teach you how to have fun

make this lesoon the best one you've done

the shine in your eyes and the way the pencil went back and forth the story

being written and you did not have to worry.

but i didn't know the langue, i didn't know how to say it,

so while you contiuned to write I went away and spoke it to another

you had no clue and for you it was torture

 i did nothing wrong i'm sorry but i moved on stop the chapter don't finish the conclution,

i wrote myself out and now you sit and cry

im sorry but the langue i knew was a lie.