This side of paradise
Too bitter to remember since I've been home,
so I roll down my window and pretend
that I didn't leave what's been left behind
for no good reason past the decision
that I never should have been yours in the first place.

I've taken quite a stance in the white sand
that settles between my toes in a sun
that's hot as a sweat feels when being caught.
I sometimes see your image cast in the mist of the ocean,
but when I try line myself up with the curves
the mirage has on me,
I go right through you.

No one ever told me hell would feel like you do.

This side of paradise
feels different when you aren't around.
Cuts me with a sharp memory.
I've spoken too much.
I've said enough.
So I just straddle the line
between your paradise and mine
until the wind blows me out of direction.