I want to do whatever's right for you
And clear out all these empty bottles
To tell the truth I'm sick of self abuse
As a means to forget all my troubles
But I'm knee deep in sand I do not understand
The more we lift our feet the more we sick
So there's nothing left to do but leave
I'll pack a book with some pictures that I took
And live out of my beat up wagon
And write you cards about how time are hard
But it makes me feel like I am living
And when I reach the coast and there's nowhere left to go
Maybe I'll figure out which way is home
Maybe I was meant to be alone
Upon return I'm sorry to have learned
That you moved on and left the city
And live down south beside the harbor mouth
In a studio with your new boyfriend
Your friends say it's the love that you've been dreaming of
You wished it would be me but had to leave
Love's not meant to be spent waiting