Story Behind the Song
They know. They always know.
Lyrics
One last act of desperate measure,
To find the cracks in my personality,
and suture them back together.
One setting Sunday afternoon,
I sent you a letter,
explaining why I was a fool…
Because I saw you last,
in a photograph.
You looked at me and laughed,
then you said…
I’ve got you figured out.
One setting Sunday afternoon,
alone with your memory, reminded how,
your voice echoed in my room…
Because I saw you last,
in a photograph.
I miss the way you laughed,
when you said…
I’ve got you figured out.
When you wouldn’t talk to me,
you were still my favorite company.
We never had a chance, did we?
I just wish your memory meant somewhat less to me.
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