you play your old song for me when you're with her and
put your cigarette between her smiling lips just like you'd always do
it was foolish to believe that you loved me like that
but sometimes it was just nice to pretend

i know that she loves you how you should be loved and
she loves the way coffee makes you sing and she doesn't mind when
you come home with knuckles caked in blood from
exorcising (i mean, exercising) every night

she's not scared of you or scared to let go when my palms
are blistered from holding on but i guess we'll always have the cold
winter nights when you'd sleep in my car because
you were too drunk to drive yourself home

and i know that she ***** you how you want to be ******
when i could never begin to hold you close or break you like that but
she gets the mornings i can only dream of having:
waking to cigarettes and coffee beside her bed