nothing

Let me take you home, he says. I want to hurt you, he says.
              But he says an awful lot of things, with a smile
          plastered on his face like they're all true, and I can't tell,
                                   I can't tell the difference.
          And you'd say I've been lied to enough to be
        able to realise, for practice makes perfect,
                  but I learned from practice,
                              nothing is perfect.