What‘s the point in being a man of words
when, for months, you couldn’t find what to say?
And why’s it that for things most important
communication always tends to break?
Because you let it slip that far,
silly you and your ego.
You knew it, she knew it, so imagine how she felt when you chose to let her go.
So where do we go from here?
The pain’s getting exponential.
Hindsight’s 2020, after all,
the fucked up year I don’t care to remember.
We were so close, yet so far.
And what’s funny, yet not at all,
is that I communicate so well most o’ the time
Then at home, put up my walls?
It’s a little bit funny...
Wait, no it’s not, I’m crying.
Losing you felt okay for a sec,
but now it feels like dying.
Good golly, good golly,
I’m just so thankful for perspective.
But it’s funny how you find it when
it’s too late to fucking matter.
I’m hurting really bad.
I forgot the way this feels.
I stopped thinking ‘bout the negatives
for what we needed to last years.
But it wasn’t well applied. I write good things sometimes,
yet I can’t take the conversation home.
What use are insightfulness and an open mind
when you can’t use ‘em to console the girl?
If I was smarter like I thought, with a better heart
I would’ve known that time was of the essence.
But what’s the use in happily ever afters
where no one is happy regardless?
The heart doesn’t have good memory,
it just remembers how it felt.
It sucks how hearts remember the good,
and put the bad away on the shelf.