I don't want to drive in my carwith no one in the 
passenger seat
except for my sweater and some Kerouac novel.
No, I need you next to me.
And I don't want to take me out for breakfast:
order, eat my oatmeal, leave a tip.
Crying through six refills of coffee,
wishing you could take every other sip.
We could live our lives,
or we could die alone.
But it's too easy to be happy.
I just want you to be happy.
It's too easy to be happy.
I don't want to send myself a postcard
of places I would rather be with you,
or write myself how lonely that I'm feeling
as if I never knew.
And I don't want to sleep all through the night
and wake up in the morning to myself.
I think I'd rather sleep out in the rain
as long as you could keep me company.