You will know it from all of the dreams that you had, the ones where you wake up, still feeling sad and you'll go through your days in the placebo ways that you always have, which, through yeahs and okays, have led you down the sort of road you shouldn't be on.
I don't want to wake up friday to the news when I've already got my lonely morning blues that you bled out on a table. If I was, why wasn't I able?
And we'll keep not stopping every time we get lost. I had a dream where you told me I couldn't pay your costs so you left me ten kinds of shanghai-ed on a sand bar. You told me you'd swim and get the car.
I wanted to be the one to tell you to stop. I wanted to let you not be forgiving for the things you never should have done and if this ends up nicely, I'll tell you I'm the one
'Cause you've got structural faults and apple-shaped eyes. For a second I thought, 'well, this could be nice' but all it turned into was me and you with wedding bands and coffee spoons,
Oh, oh, remember the last time you tried to let me, read you my latest rhyme in the interest of the city1?
Well, we can 't keeping breaking off all of the things you promised that you'd give me, like anything. And probably by the time the ship arrives, we'll be insane but I remember kissing you beneath the first rain.
Oh, oh, you never once told what it was like to be alone. We huddled against the cold. My warmth wasn't on loan.
Tell me, do you ever think of me? I wonder, perhaps irresospinsibly, why I ever would think to see anything good in me and you and me.
1 = London.
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