It's been 18 months since I kissed you once, so just saying "hi" just isn't going to fly,

But if you give me a clue and a minute or two then I might remember your name.

And I hate to insist that I was really that pissed, but to tell the truth, in my flush of youth,

I would drown my sight until faces and nights seemed the same.

A nervous shrug and an awkward hug won't get me out of the hole that I've dug,

So I slip the noose with a poor excuse and talk to someone, anyone else.

I sit with my friends and I try to pretend that I never did that sort of thing again

But I'm lying to myself.



And suddenly it's as clear as clear could be: I'm not quite the perfect man that I hoped I'd be.

And though I alwasy tried to live an honest life, to tell the truth I've told my share of lies.



I remember you, of course I do, but I don't recall how many times we've been though

Our little game, that always ends the same, with you sad and me far away.

And every time I repeat the line that the fault's not mine and I wasn't unkind,

But the worst part is that I've got nothing else to say.



All the pretty little pictures of faith and firm devotion that I painted as a child;

They have fallen by the wayside, along with all my puppy-fat,

But my days have taught me this:

That every day I spend pretending that I always choose the right path

Is a day that I choose the wrong.



My wisdom teeth have been giving me grief;

They woke me up to find that I'm exactly the kind

Of guy I said that I'd rather be dead

Than be in the days before I got laid.