That Letter

I spend so much time these days looking forward.
And I spend so much time these days looking back.
That I don’t spend any time these days looking around.

Now there’s empties on the table and there’s dishes in the sink.
And I should probably clean up this mess but my head aches and it hurts to think.
I miss the sound of your voice on days like today.
The way we would have laughed and watched cartoons and let the whole day slip away.

Now there’s an old friend’s voice on the telephone.
I’m glad he calls me when he feels the need.
But you... you used to call me every night to talk yourself to sleep.

In amongst the bottles on the table there’s a sweet green envelope.
Up until last week I assumed I was waiting for letters you never wrote.
I’ll admit your handwriting in my mailbox was quite a surprise.
And I should probably open that letter but my head aches and it hurts to cry.
My head aches and it hurts to cry.

Now there’s an old friend’s voice on the telephone.
I’m glad he called me when he was in need.
But you... you used to call me every night to talk yourself to sleep.

Now my friends have never stopped calling though the faces and the names have changed.
Believe me, I know how lucky I am, I am grateful every single day.
But I miss the sound of your voice when I’m lying on the couch like this.
We would have made breakfast and we would have made plans and never noticed all the hours we’d missed.
Lyin’ on the couch like this.

Now there’s an old friend’s voice on the telephone.
I’m glad he calls me when he feels the need.
But you... you used to call me every night to talk yourself to sleep.

I spend so much time these days looking at the ground.
That I don’t spend any time these days looking around.
Now there’s empties on the table and a letter full of long past hurts.
And granted, I haven’t opened it yet, but my head aches and it hurts to look.
My head aches and it hurts to look.
My head aches and it hurts to look.