Love songs on the radio.
That sweetheart lies in bed.
She's hoping that you meant,
everything you ever said.

But you surely don't,
because she surely doesn't.
Everything that was, everything that was,
that wasn't.

She wants proof.
That her days will be alright.
That her paranoid thoughts,
won't kill her in the night.

She hears your every breath,
but has no clue who you are.
Your many glass facades,
make you a stranger in the dark.

But you surely don't,
because she surely doesn't.
Everything that was, everything that was,
that wasn't.

She walks along,
a cracked cement path,
filled with memories,
of a bittersweet past.

Was it insecure lies,
or unfulfilled promise?
The swears thought up at night?
the feeling of her kiss?

But you surely don't,
because she surely doesn't.
Everything that was, everything that was,
that wasn't.