By Penelope Crowe

You call everyday and you're right on time
And I can't help but think that it's all by design
Suddenly things become yours, become mine
And I wonder what happened to us.

The excuses I had they are all running thin
I've so much to say and I cannot begin
And the angels that wait on the head of a pin
Are beginning to run short on faith

Can't say that I blame you I bring out your worst
I knew for so long should have mentioned it first
I'm gasping for air and your dying of thirst
And we both need to figure this out

All the time that you spend in the air on a plane
Keeps us separate and quiet and I shouldn't complain
You wanted it neat and confined and contained
But there's no room for me in that box

But I miss how you'd look when I knew you were mine
You'd smile with your eyes and I'd lose track of time
You'd ask how I was, and I really was fine.

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