These are the thoughts that I wrote   In the book that I took from your drawer.   The syllables are strained and hard to explain   but I promise my intentions are pure      And its raining outside which is fine cause I remember   We’d huddle just to keep each other warm   And I know it wasn’t me but its all that I see   but the meaning might be hard to absorb   yea the meaning might be hard to absorb      Why, I knew you would   I said “why, why, the words don’t come to me like they should”      These city streets breathe and I wish I could leave   But they’re beggin for the right to be heard   And I try to scream, “yea this is all a dream   And this situation seems so absurd”      “This doesn’t seem to fit”, I say as I sit   with my head in my hands on the curb   and this doesn’t make sense, which makes no difference   because I never get what I should deserve   no I never get what I should deserve      Why, I knew you would   I said “Why, why, the words don’t come to me like they should”      Cause I am predictable, closed-minded   You were my sanity now I can’t find it   I am predictable      Why, I knew you would   I said “Why, why, the words don’t come to me like they should”      These are the thoughts that I wrote   in the book that I took from your drawer.