i knew that i'd get like this again. that's why i try to keep at bay, be one-hundred percent when i'm with you and then a perfect heart's length away.
the stickler is you've played not one beat wrong. you never promised me anything, even sat me down, warned me just how they fall and i knew the odds were i'd never win.
yet here i am. it's a half life. with you as my quaterback, a daft life.
my self-worth measured in text back tempo. its been two days and eight minutes too slow. there may as well be other but i still like to pretend that i'm the one you really want to grow old with.
you've got a schedule to stick to, got a world to keep sweet. its so much to everyone all the time. will you ever slow down? will i ever come first? the universe contracts decide.
you know you'll never be lonely. you know you'll always be loved. and maybe you'll never need more than that. but for the surplus that loves, what's to become of us? does it ever register on your conscience?
long for the one last showdown, from a box in the crowd, air compressed tight to explode. i'm clenching my ticket to the only way out as you disappear in a puff of smoke.
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i don't think it is possible for her to make bad music.
