Clearly about a breakup:
Lie to me, right through me.
I don't want to hang around the graveyard, waiting for something dead to come back.
I know you think you got one up on me, bet you can see something I can't.
It's not love, it's just adornment, bathroom wall graffiti,
A cliché sprayed on a t-shirt, fortune-cookie poetry.
I don't want to waste a high hanging around some place I never was.
Of all the reasons to feel hateful, you're the best of them.
Treat me like a boyfriend, like some dumb fucking boyfriend.