I’m sick as hell, sick from spitting words.
I’m home again, glad I got here first.
I heard you’ve got it all figured out.
It seems that you’ve found better things since you moved down south.
It’s hard to see your name right now and what you’re doing on Friday nights in that town.
I hope you’d call me if you’re feeling down.
Maybe things would’ve been better if I had you around.
I’m standing still while you move along.
I miss the feeling of us in high school halls.
I’d try, but you cant seem to pick up your phone.
I just feel so much better when I know you’re alone.
It’s cold back where we’re from.
You say that you’re trying but that’s never enough.
I’ll pretend I’ve got nothing left to say.
I miss you to death, I guess I’ll see you around someday.
Never being number one for someone gets pretty fuckin old after a while