One day you call, the next day you don't know me. You act like you don't know me. I wish that you'd know me.
Took the poem meant for you,
rolled and smoked it ugly.
Burning the way I adored you
into ashes, feeling less lucky.
If I ever saw you on the street,
one mile from the pavement,
I would pretend to look at my feet,
and not submit any arrangements.
Pretend you are a stranger,
my pride gets in the way.
Praying away the danger
and for these feelings to go away.
My guide tells me this is a phase,
a phase where it will fade
and eventually go away.
Tomorrow will be another day.
One day you call, the next day you don't know me. You act like you don't know me. I wish that you'd know me.
One day I will feel better.
