I like the lines on your face
They read like poetry, the kind that keeps me up too late
Sometimes there's nothing left to say
Sometimes there's just nothing
My life has already been sung
On pages from trees from before you were young
The years before I was born
The years I'll be left with when you are gone
When you go where I can't follow
I'll still sing for you, my love
I like the lines on your face
They say 'look at you, 22, you shouldn't have to stay up late'
When you say things will be okay someday
I believe you even though that's something I would never say
Would you see the glass half full if it was full of poison?
