Met you at the dive bar to go shoot some pool
and make fun of cowboys with the neck tattoos.
I ask you easy questions about work and school,
trying to be cool about it,
feeling like an absolute fool about it,
wishing you were kind enough to be cruel about it,
telling myself I can always do without it
knowing that it probably isn’t true.
I came prepared for absolution if you‘d only ask,
so I take some offense when you say, “No regrets.”
I remember it’s impossible to pass your test,
but I’m trying to forget about it,
feeling like an I’m breaking a sweat about it,
wishing you would kindly get out of my head about it,
telling myself one day I’ll forget about it
knowing that it probably isn’t true.
Once I took your medication to know what it’s like,
and now I have to act like I can’t read your mind.
I ask you how you’re doing and I let you lie.
But we don’t have to talk about it.
I can walk you home and practice method acting.
I’ll pretend being with you doesn’t feel like drowning.
Telling you it’s nice to see how good you’re doing
even though we know it isn’t true.
