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Aug 2012
I have nothing more to do
Than sit around and talk with you.
I could be doing other things
And you could be the one who sings.
I would get to listen
To know what I've been missin';
To hear your voice so sweet
It makes me clench my teeth.
You could tell me stories
All mine would be boring.
Yet I know that you would hear them
Or at least pretend to listen;
All because I have nothing more to do
Than sit around and talk with you.

A few months later and everything's changed
I'm surprised you still even know my name.
Days to weeks without talking, maybe a couple texts.
Now I have nothing more to do than let go, but 'm always vexed.
You told me so many lies
Even as you kissed me and touched my thighs.
I always used to look forward to another day
I couldn't wait to get out of bed for you to say:
"Goodmorning, love" or something cute
That would eventually tear me from my roots.
You looked at me so purposely
I couldn't believe it was reality.
Now I've waken up, and I see the truth
So I'm ready to let you go, and forget your subterfuge.
Obviously, I'm not a writer. But It would make me feel good that I'm letting my feelings out, even if no one sees them.
Written by
   Fred Mateo, Ahmad Cox and ---
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