I don't know what's going on, and I don't quite know where I am. Nowhere in Nashville, but you're here with time to kill.
Headlights, you were miles away. Stop signs, you were counting the days with road lines. You were singing my name.
I always knew you'd move away and cut our connection. It shouldn't hurt that you had to leave to find your direction, but this hurts so bad. Always remember that nice girls die slow.
We act as track marks that landscape our maps. We'll use magnifying glass to inspect all the pieces that spread through the scenery. It's easy to forget then relive all that we did.
I can't make you stay. Where does that leave me anyway?