Maybe in May we’ll drive to New York,
Maybe in May you’ll say we could work.
I’ve loved you since January,
On my 17th birthday,
When another boy’s arm was around me but I wanted it to be yours.
When I looked around and saw you first.
I want to drive away with you,
But I can never be with you,
I’ll always just be a faint smell from the passenger seat,
Smelling like a candle that’s been blown out,
I hope my name never is meaningless in your mouth,
I love your wood-grain heart,
I think I’ll see you soon. Four months will change a man.