“I’ll pick you up at eight,
if that’s alright with you”
She’s standing by her door,
I don’t know what to do.
I hope she likes my clothes.
I hope she laughes at my jokes.
She steps into the car.
I drive into the city.
Shes talking, talking, talking.
She’s looking so pretty.
So I give her all my best lines.
But I think she knows they’re all lies.
But if I told the truth.
Of whats really in my heart.
That I’m so lonely.
I tear myself apart.
That I’m so insecure.
I make myself sick.
I can’t even look in the mirror.
To see myself like this.
If I told the truth,
would it scare you?
We go out for a meal.
And the conversation flows.
She tells me bout her boy.
Who’s almost two years old.
And she looks so beautiful.
I wish I could hold her in my arms and never let go.
But if I told the truth.
Of whats really in my heart.
That I’m so lonely.
I tear myself apart.
That I’m so insecure.
I make myself sick.
I can’t even look in the mirror.
To see myself like this.
Cause sometimes, at night.
I lie awake, and I’m not sure if I’m gonna make it, through.
But if I told the truth.
Of whats really in my heart.
That I’m so lonely.
I tear myself apart.
That I’m so insecure.
I make myself sick.
I can’t even look in the mirror.
To see myself like this.
I walk her to her door.
And she kisses me on the cheek.
She says “i had fun.
Call me next week”.
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