We were playing in the sand.
And you found a little band.
You said that you fell in love with it, hadn't gone as I planned.
When you had to bid adieu,
you said you'd never love anew.
I thought that I'd try to hold it and fall in love with it too.
You told me to buy a pony but all I wanted was you.
I remember you that day.
I couldn't bear to look away.
I sat there entranced, entangled in every word that you'd say.
But every night must have a dawn.
And friend, these nights aren't very long.
And so when I finally blinked and I realized you were gone.
Instead of finding you, I went home to write you a song.
It was sorrowful and stark.
But it always seemed to miss the mark.
Every godd*mn lyric seemed to be twisted, creepy and dark.
And once resentment settled down,
I thought I'd finally f*cking settled on a sound.
But each and every melody that I heard would make my head pound.
Oh I can't seem to separate the confusing from the profound.
We were playing in the sand.
And I extended you a hand.
You said that you'd rather die than be seen with me as your man.
At least that's what I was convinced.
And the pain's resounded ever since.
But maybe it's simply that when I took my shot I missed.
You know what they say, at the end of the day
indifference is bliss.
