Here comes the blame like a locomotive train through the phone lines. You always complain when I fail to sustain your peace of mind. But I’ve got news for you: it’s that I need you too, I really do, but more than our state can allow, because if we lean on each other long enough, we’ll both fall down.
Now I’m going through withdrawal, you don’t understand how bad I want to call you. And pretend that this all was some elaborate ruse by my substitute. But I both dialed and hung up the phone, and in between, that voice was me, I heard it with my own two ears. Now I’m wishing that this was a nightmare and I’ll wake up with you near.
There will be no plane or train to take either of us out of this space. And I don’t know about you, but you’re why I’m in this place in the first place. I know you always get upset when I throw "always" at your last mindset. I say I’ll stop, but I always forget. I always wanted us to grow old together, but not just yet.