You told me how love is only a feeling and how you can’t express that for me, and thats why I winced at the kissing scenes in movies because you know how to make me feel very small.
I am forgotten Sunday’s in the middle of winter.
I am old shoe strings beaten and falling apart.
But I’m not the girl boys take home to meet their mothers, I am hidden away on train rides to the city.
I am not the girl that you would have a picture of folded up in your wallet
But i am a song that is stuck in your head at 4am,
but it will remind you of somebody else.