Blue jeans, White shirt
Walked into the room anda know anda made my eyes burn
It was like James Dean, for sure
You so fresh to death & sick as ca-cancer
You were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip hop
But anda fit me better than my favorit sweater, and I know
That cinta is mean, and cinta hurts
But I still remember that hari we met in December, oh baby!

I will cinta anda till the end of time
I would wait a million years
Promise you'll remember that you're mine
Baby can anda see through the tears?
Love anda more
Than those bitches before
Say you'll remember, oh baby, say you'll remember
I will cinta anda till the...