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