I sit on your bed and I watch you undress for that long talk. With your tears on the floor and my boots by the door for that long walk. All those nights I spent talking with you about all of the things that we’ll lose. You know most of it was true.
I ride by on my bike in the middle of the night, the house is all lit up. But the garden has gone all withered and brown, same as our love. All those nights I spent talking with you, about all of the things that we’ll lose. You know most of it was true.
