Writing letters, only to keep them in my head.
Chasing my mind around, building arguments.
And it would be easier if you were here to defend,
But I remind myself that that won t happen.


Six more days til Sunday and I swear that I won t call.
And I suppose it s about time I took down that picture on the wall,
The one of you and me when we dressed up for Halloween,
And I m still not sure what you were supposed to be.
What you were supposed to be


And I know that time heals all things,
But I feel like time kills all things bad about you.
And could it really have been me who said so proudly,
That I d be better off without you?


Day by day I work myself down to the bone.
And I put your arms around me whenever I m alone.
And sure, I know that those arms, they aren t real,
But I say that anything is better than the way I feel.


Day by day I work myself and I smile at all my friends
And I say, I know it s just a second love
And surely it don t mean the end.
But when does that name fade?
And when do I stop using it for protection?
And where does one go to from perfection?


And I know you re not perfect, but I built you up that way.
And I know it s been a year, but I can t take another day.
And it would be easier if you were here to defend,
But as it stands, I m just left with an image of perfection.
An image of perfection.
An image of perfection, whenever I close my eyes.
An image of perfection, and it gets me by.