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