Nothing ever happens how you wish it would.
You were such a talker, swore I could listen good.
You'd correct me, say "it's actually well."
I replied that's one thing I hoped you could tell.
You understood the double meanings
and right there was where you stood.
You're swaying and you're leaning,
you've had too much on the neighborhood.
I wish I could impress you now,
but I've run out of luck somehow.
I think that's what I'm mostly missing,
all that and the kissing, but not the only thing.
Like times you would just fall down on me,
can't even come up with a similar analogy.
Thinking like I must be somewhere close to Heaven,
sometimes even when you must feel you got to yell.
I can't believe the things that I still miss from then,
especially now it all just fell straight into Hell.
How are you now asking why you should ever have taken the time to care
when you were right about to cry when you last ran hands through my hair?