Going through your things, while your asleep,
no you don't expect any less from me, from me.
If all of your friends, convinced I'm no good,
you don't see things differently and I'm not so sure you should.
If all this is real, then how can we feel,
so alone, so alone, it's just fine.
Like the knock on a door, or a television set,
it rattled and shook you from the place you left us last.
Now we're walking around, going back and forth,
because of a past is why the cards we're dealt.
Like I drank too much, and put you through hell.
Got sick on a train now we're lost to figure out.
It's three in the morning, not nearly asleep.
I'm stuck on this thought, this backwards way to think.
But your new town is great, and so's your new man.
Your friends are sincere, who knows
and who really gives a damn?
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