She grabs her magazines
She packs here things and she goes
She leaves the pictures hanging on the wall, she burns all
Her notes and she knows, she's been here too few years
To feel this old

She said I don't know if I've ever been good enough
I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in
And I don't know if I've ever been really loved
By hand that's touched me, well I feel like something's gonna give
And I'm a little bit angry, well...