I wanted you in my pocket, I wanted that old flame.
But I guess lighters light fires, change hands then break and we’re the same.
I'm glad I cut off the bracelet I made from the string
I stole from you years ago when you were folding up your laundry.
Now you don’t have to try to remain unseen since you got clean.
So the fact that you wont see me is a truth I'll have to set free.
I tell myself, “Write it down, turn it around.”
But you're still in the little things that I do.
I still smoke my cigarettes in the same way that you used to,
back when I would say, “Don’t let their world steal you away.”

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