he never liked the music I listened to
and I never liked the music he made,
but at least I gave it a chance  
during our phone conversations
his reactions seemed to lag,
and I never knew what he wanted me to say
weeks would escape between us
every movement he chose to do,
each performance he had to renew
to avoid boredom to spew out into reviews
and I couldn't stand in that audience forever
hoping for him to reach out and take my hand
oh well, oh well
he started smoking to pass the time, with no meaning and no end,
not understanding how each fold of paper managed to bend  
distance, countries, continents won't fix a heart break
every word of infidelity spills into a song
and even to this day,
I hear them humming the melody
I hear all of them singing along
the words will vanish but hit my eardrum
staying stuck inside my head
tormenting each time spent lying in bed
and he said writing the song never took very long
it's choosing what's too personal to belong
to any willing ear
to any passing man
to anyone who has time in their hands
every lie was spoken, emotion was never felt
escaping your name, I finally got away
left you with one last phone call
and now it's on some stranger's opinion you lean
it keeps you from falling down
and I know in your thoughts it's where I drown
so keep those scratches on the records,
a loose finger on the chords
if everything is perfect  
you know they'll love you more