Whats it been,
four, five years?
I can't shake the thought of you.
Each year I want you more
wish you were mine
and have my heart shudder
with each girl you put your arm around.
I'm always so scared though,
scared you're too short
and I'm too tall
afraid I'm not interesting
or pretty enough
or maybe you're not pretty enough for me,
though I'm always afraid of not being what you need.

You're always there for me,
you know I'm hurting
and each year, I hear,
you can't shake the thought of me,
they're probably lies
but it makes my heart fly
and I'll pretend I didn't cry,
what's wrong with me?
You reach out and I reach back
but just as our fingers touch
I'm too scared to hold on, and I fall,
but you always wait for me to climb back up.

but how long will you wait?
I need to get it together,
man up,
finally tell you everything that hurts,
then you'll pull me up,
and maybe everything will be okay.