I get the suitcase
so you’ll let me help you pack.
Push all your things into it,
and the hinges sag.
You’re making it hard to say …
and I hate you for that.
If you haven’t yet
let’s make breakfast.
It’ll taste great.
We’ll burn the toast
and simmer the eggs,
until they pop.
Watch the flames go high.
You won’t ever come back.
I hate you for that.
And someday soon
I’ll stop all this pretending
that you’ll be back
I wish it were true.
Someday soon,
I’ll write you
a simple song
it won’t hurt me to try.
It’ll be nothing new,
just a song to bring you home.