I’m never the guy in the picture
I wonder why that is
It’s never my hand you’re holding
it always seems to be his

I could be the one that makes you smile
and touches your very soul
That fills you with passion and longing
gives you a yearning to be again whole

But I’m never the guy in the picture
unless the picture is only of me
Just what is it that I’m missing
that means this is the way its to be?