there was one thing missing, and that was the moment i knew

so he calls me up and he's like 'i still love you', and i'm like, i mean this is exhausting, you know, like we are never getting back together.. like, ever

they say you bought a bunch of land somewhere, chose the rose garden over madison square

i guess we fell apart in the usual way, and the story's got dust on every page, but sometimes i wonder how you think about it now and i see your face in every crowd

words, how little they mean when you're a little too late

we are alone just you and me, up in your room and our slates are clean

we ditch the whole scene and end up dreaming instead of sleeping

i walked through the door with you, the air was cold, but something about it felt like home somehow

busy streets and busy lives

we were always skipping town, and i was thinking on the drive down 'any time now he's gonna say it's love', you never called it what it was 'til we were dead and gone and buried, check the pulse and come back swearing it's the same, after 3 months in the grave

he seems fine most of the time, forcing smiles and never minds, his laugh is symphony

with some indie record that's much cooler than mine

i wish we could go back in time, and i'd say to you 'i miss you like it was the very first night'

and someone else lights up the room, people love an ingénue

this is the golden age of something good and right and real

if i was standing there in your apartment, i'd take that bomb in your head and disarm it, i'd say i love you even at your darkest, and please don't go

how could you do this, babe?

and the saddest fear comes creeping in, that you never loved me, or her, or anyone, or anything

you said it in a simple way, 4 am the second day

what about your promises?