| Dropped you off… that night… at the door… no invite… |
| Driving slow, the long way home, expect a call, it doesn’t come. |
| On my porch to my guitar, look for rhymes but don’t get far. |
| So sorry that you shut me out. Now what’s this song about? |
| I guess I overthought the day. You turned to me and looked that way. |
| Standing in your summer dress, I could have sworn that you meant yes. |
| So many times I’ve looked at you. |
| So many songs that came on cue. |
| Now I try to figure out, just what this song’s about. |
| It could have been a happy tune, about us dancing on the moon. |
| It could have been a sweet romance, about a night in Paris, France. |
| But now I’m feeling so washed out, what’s this song about? |
| Writers can be full of doubt. |
| They write to get the sadness out. |
| They send postcards, when they are dead. |
| From poems they leave inside your head. |
| Tonight it’s hard to find the words, that makes sense of what occurred. |
| Forgive me while I figure out, just what this song’s about. |
| Tonight it’s hard to find the words, that makes sense of what occurred. |
| Forgive me while I figure out, just what this song’s about. |