I remember when we were friends and
we could just sit and listen to music in your room.
The Beatles want to hold your hand,
but I thought Not nearly so much as I do.

When we weren't dancing to old grooves,
or laughing about the newest fad,
I'd see a glimpse in your eyes of the true
sadness that you had; Those eyes were so **** sad.

That's where it began, I think.
The sadness is what made you beautiful to me.
I tried to hold your hand, that night,
but you pulled it in horror away from me.

Though the way you recoiled from my touch alarmed my soul,
I wasn't surprised to know. Still, it hurt, I'll admit,
it hurt more than words could describe for me to know
you for you: a beautiful puzzle piece for which I was not the right fit.

I remember the days, though they seem so long ago.
I remember when we were such fast friends.
When we weren't, (I wasn't surprised to know)
that's where our story dies bitter; So it ends.