I used to cry myself to sleep every night,
While you were only God knows where,
I grasped the sheets,
Cried into my pillow,
And one of the things that hurt the most,
Was knowing,
You weren't thinking about me.
I thought maybe,
Just maybe,
One day I'd be good enough of you,
But you expect perfection,
And that was something I couldn't reach.
I've been the wandering sort lately,
Waiting for the day I'll just wander right into you,
Maybe I'm just wishful thinking,
Or maybe I'm a glutton for punishment,
But I think it comes down to,
Wanting what you can't have,
And you slip through my fingers every time.