Put my head through the window, I'm all smiles and so is she. "What's it been now, like, three years?"
(the way you look I'd say it's more like ten) Exchanges. One gesture. Two good-byes. Naturally it's no surprise.
Her eyes shift to the left, my right, as she starts to speak. I'm on my knees again and she hasn't even stood up yet.
I'm just one, in a long line of boys she let put their tongues in her mouth, I'm just one in a long line of boys...
She looks so three-dimensional, but I know she's four. I wish I could wash out the color, there's just...something about black and white.
Every word of my small talk could be translated as: "Please forgive me." She looks so three-dimensional, but I remember four.
I wish I could wash out all those colors, make everything black and white. Every word of my small talk could be
translated as "Forgive me please."