we wouldn't know what to do with each other. and eventually, we'd have nothing to talk about. there's nothing that you want to do that amounts to much more than stories of the other night. and there's nothing that i want to do that amounts to much more than plans i think i'm trying to make. i wish i wasn't addicted to falling in love. at least then, i could take this as far as i knew it would go. but i still stick to the belief that guilt beats hate. you just won't do; you're the kind of person that asks why. we could do this if i got beautiful and dirty. we could do this if i got beautiful and dirty. and it's not really tearing me up.
i didn't know who you were before i met you but i swallowed hard every time i saw you.
i could probably never turn you around.
you just don't have the right kind of eyes.
and i bet you still don't touch pen to paper.
i actually don't even believe in you.
i'd have to be the kind of man that would fight the kind of man that i am.
my canvas jacket would be worn thin everywhere.
i'd wear filthy boots caked with mud.
i'd wear hats.