Maybe he talks to another girl,
But I don't know...
Maybe he's just being a guy;
I don't know...
Maybe he flirts with a girl,
Maybe more than one;
I don't know...
Maybe I'm not good enough for him;
I don't know.
Maybe he doesn't miss me as much as I miss him;
I don't know.
Maybe he does inside,
Just doesn't show it;
I don't know.
Maybe he's exploiting me;
I don't know.
Maybe he flirts with other girls when I'm not there;
I don't know.
Maybe he doesn't know if he actually "loves" me;
I don't know.
Maybe he saw flaws in me he's not telling me about;
I don't know.
Maybe I'm too boring for him;
I don't know.
Maybe he's experiancing new and better things;
I don't know.
Maybe he's just too good for me,
But I still don't know...

I might as well make the most of my time,
Without you in my arms.

They tell me,
That I have small hands and feet,
But still like the rest; just a bit different,
For a young girl who's petite.

It's been one heck of a bumpy road,
To get to where I am now...

I call her shnooks,
She's insipid as can be,
She eats my whole house,
That dog's called Sandy.

I will wait,
For **you

I might actually be a poet,
And I don't even know it.