Middle of the night outside of the bar,
No one with me,
Other than the dead cellphone in my pocket.
This isn't where I should be,
But it gave me time to think,
And I came to the conclusion,
That it had been far too long since I'd felt so alive.

Went home for three weeks,
Never smiled more than I did there.
Seeing you there,
Being with you there,
Kissing you there,
And leaving you there.
Yes, I went home for three weeks,
And though I was never raised there,
I grew there,
And each day,
I grow to miss it.

Dear Cole,
I can't say I've ever been in love with anyone who I've ever met, nor can I say that I've ever met anyone named Cole... I think.
So that's why I'm writing you...because maybe we'll fall in love.
You're out there somewhere, Cole, and that's probably not even your real name, but you could be anywhere. Thousands of miles away, or even down the street.
Either way, I'll keep looking for you, and I guess I can only hope that you're looking for me, too.

Someday, I'd like to be by your side.
Safely wrapped in your arms,
Staring into your stupidly handsome grin.

If I wrote it in a letter,
If I sang it in a song.

If I could look into his deep blue eyes,
And tell him just how long.

If I could paint it in a picture,
Of a hand or simple touch.

If I could focus on his big bright smile,
And tell him just how much.

If I could simply tell him,
Tell him that I do,

Perhaps just in that moment,
He'd say he loves me, too.

I thought it was lovely,
When the words rolled off of your lips,
Into my ear,
And broke my heart.

I thought it was lovely,
Because though you were causing me pain,
No one in the world,
*could've looked so good.

I'm sick of singing alone.
I want harmony,
And I crave your voice.