Long for the words with hearts and wings / Something familiar when you miss everything / You rest your head against the window pane / Feet on the dash through a steady rain. / I drove you home while you slept in the front seat / After a show at the stone pony / Watched you wake so God damn sweetly / Over the Walt Whitman bridge back to Philly / I toss and turn at 4 in the morning / Petrified of where our future is going / Cause you’re the kinda girl that deserves the world / And I’m just the kinda guy that promises the world / So I fix a drink nice and strong in the kitchen / Something quick that’ll cure my conscience / Creep back to bed and I kiss your forehead / Maybe everything is fine and it's all in my head. / A little Irish in your blood, a little polish in your name / A little Boston in your attitude, just the way you were raised. / We drove up to Massachusetts together / Your old house was just like you remembered / We stayed in your adolescent room / And rummaged through the boxes labeled former you / The souvenirs of happiness in a moment / Your wild years that you often mention / The sands of time in an hourglass / That you’re always begging for back. / I got drunk in the afternoon, with your father in the living room / As the television broke the silence, you smiled knowing I was trying / The best that I can do.
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