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It's a quarter past four, |
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I packed my bags with less things than we hold in conversation, |
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If that's even possible. |
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I wish it weren't true, |
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The fact that |
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I could write this song, |
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And you can't speak a word... |
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Whoa, it's why... |
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You're not my baby, |
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Oh baby, and maybe, |
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I'm crazy, yeah. |
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I don't want to have to write, oh baby, |
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Don't want to have to write to you, |
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But you made me, you made me, |
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Because you never changed. |
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I think I'll move somewhere inviting, |
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Where my heart's not being lied to, |
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Cause I'll keep on trying. |
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But you can't change anymore, |
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So put that smile behind your lack of effort, |
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It's the only thing that shows anyway. |
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And it's why... |
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You're not my baby, |
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Oh baby, and maybe, |
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I'm crazy, yeah. |
|
I don't want to have to write, oh baby, |
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Don't want to have to write to you, |
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But you made me, you made me, |
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Because you never changed. |
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Don't want to have to write, oh baby, |
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Don't want to have to write to you, |
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But you made me, you made me, |
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You'll never change. |
