Leave your lover on the doorstep
Wait for the mailman to pick her up to send
Take her to some far away land,
Stare at the picture in your hand
Like you never had a chance.
'Til next week rolls around
I should make more plans,
Hold on to love like I’m asking for ransom
Just because I can,
But I’ve never been the best of friends.
Now I’m tired of sleeping in late
No It never feels great, even on the weekend.
Some call it fate I should feel this way:
I have no time to waste
I'm nearing the end of my days.
When tomorrow rolls around
I should do it all again
Make no excuses while I’m living in quicksand
Just cause I can’t see
The truth when it’s in front of me.
It's not a matter of if, but when.
No, I'm not saying that's fair;
I'm only doing what i can.
I'm neither here nor there,
and that's where I have been
My whole life.
Leave your pride in the gutter
Despair is his brother, like a dog follows him.
But abandoning your hand of gold rings
Can feel like dying
Before you could ever sing.
If next time ever rolls around
I should take more chances
Trust that my cards
Are as good as the next mans’
But I always fold,
Even the best of hands I’m told.
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