there's a little bit of me still wedged
in between your walls, the seats of your car
reminders of those afternoons with our sunglasses
and lazy naps lulled by the rain
but let it stream by you
this passage of time is not as easy to grasp
as the picture frames that we left behind
and everybody knows what this feels like
this is freedom, this is hard, this is nothing we'd want to do again
and i admit that there's still a bit of you
an ounce of you in my mind
when i play the counting crows and when i lay in bed
and when the phone rings i pretend
sometimes i pretend that you're calling me again
