You say you don't mean it, but anything can change.
It's been only two years now and I'm stuck here,
Waiting for something different that reminds me of you.
And Fridays won't be the same for two weeks or until you drink again.
But Lent is on its way, and I thought March air would bring a new breath to inhale.
(Cigarette smoke's outlining your name and embarassing the clocks.)
So how can you reject someone who tells you they love you?
It's nothing that it seems, but you didn't mean it; it's still not the same.
Push back your hair, tell you he means it,
But nothing will kill that fact that we're both so insecure.
To sum it up, all I really want is for you to be happy.
And you can say what you want,
But I know you more than you know yourself.
Let him push your hair behind your ears and touch your face.
And stare at you for hours,
Because regardless if he's stoned, he'll still love you.
And so will I, but even ten hits won't let that be known.
