once you asked me what i was doing, so i told you i was killing.
you told me killing was bad, so i swore to never take your heart
and rip it into different halves.
that night i vowed to stay by your side and listen to your every complaint
so i wouldn't feel as alone as you seem to be.
we are so similar but yet so different because i know for a fact that you
would rather your tomatoes be on a sandwich.
if i had to, i would take the weight of the world from your shoulders
and give it to someone who is actually as experienced as you think you are.
but then again, we all have our reasons for feeling so old.
at least that's what Andrea told me,
her words never quite making sense but somehow they all end up in my back pocket
along with pant strings and pieces of pocket lint as tiny as the words i've spoken to you.
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