Probably never shoulda even opened my mouth
|
And I had no right to say what anything meant to you
|
I'm still trying to figure out what it all meant to me
|
We all know sometimes I speak too quickly
|
Been known for choosing all the wrong words
|
Seems I wasn't very careful when traveling back in time
|
Remembering how I'd wished we coulda burned a little bit brighter
|
The second time around
|
I was holding out for something greater
|
Than broken slogans, empty sing-alongs
|
I still do
|
It's still not
|
|
Maybe it woulda been easier if I was less honest
|
When giving the answers Lord knows can be so hard to hear
|
Like the older we get the less that there seems to be worth fighting for
|
Don't you think that makes me sad too? But I was just reciting bacic math
|
Same tired words
|
Familiar let downs
|
I could not help but see all those lines that you were drawing in the sand
|
Would blow away at the slightest wind
|
But I have been giving it some thought and I have decided
|
That I'm not sorry, not sorry, not sorry about nothing
|
|
And I never shoulda named names when it wasn't you
|
But all the faces, all the ideas, bands that came and went and came again
|
Just could not find the patience to differentiate
|
But based on your reaction the lesson still remains
|
Bonds built on words don't mean a thing to me
|
And with friendships like ours who needs friendships anyway
|
I didn't then
|
I dont now
|
|
-----------------
|
Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda
|
Bane |