You expect me to prefer that amazing old city light to the only think I can do.
You expect me to give away all this time. But you never asked me for my time.
So, I suppose I can't complain, when you don't have time for anything but running errands for someone else.
It seems you don't have the need, the urge or the will, simply the will to reach me...
It is not the ocean, but it may be the time or the way we dealt with it.
I miss you and I don't, with you it's probably the same.
I'm not sure if I'm jealous or if I don't care at all. And what hurts is not knowing what I feel this time.
I was expecting you could show me, but it takes an extra effort and I start to doubt you're able to forget about you for a second and try to do it (hey, what's the surprise?! that's your introduction line)
