| I promised Colin I’d keep writing, and
|
| That’s the only promise I’ve kept, but
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| I have no regrets. |
| Like
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| Your empty mailbox?
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| It doesn’t bother me
|
| Not at all
|
| And I promised you I’d come visit soon
|
| Guess I should’ve made the trip, but
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| Money’s tight as rope and time too. |
| And
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| You know how it goes better than anyone
|
| There isn’t ever much of anything we need or
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| Think we do
|
| So I don’t feel bad
|
| I don’t feel bad
|
| And somewhere you cut me out
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| Fall in love to rinse your mouth
|
| But it doesn’t bother me at all
|
| I promised Colin I’d take off to you soon, on
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| An old deck in Louisville, KY
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| Four stories up, six AM and ten deep
|
| While they were sleeping, and I said
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| «Keep me in check, friend.» |
| And he tried
|
| But I couldn’t be
|
| And that small window closed, and I
|
| Never really kept writing either, just
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| Stared downward at the page most times or
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| Thought about it real hard
|
| And there must be something missing in me
|
| That she’s there and I’m still here because
|
| That’s messed up
|
| But I don’t feel bad about it
|
| And somewhere you cut me out
|
| Fall in love to rinse your mouth
|
| But it doesn’t bother me at all
|
| I have tried hard to stay hopeful in the moments
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| They cut ropes to set you free
|
| I have always tried to point the finger elsewhere
|
| This time it points to me
|
| But it doesn’t bother me at all
|
| Each chance to lock arms, to lie long in locked eyes
|
| And I failed to let go, to cut ties with my life
|
| But I’m torn, and reborn, see I died when you left
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| But each word since that day was your name from my chest
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| I am afraid
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| But it doesn’t bother me at all |