You're making comments on the weather About whether spring or fall is better, And I know there was a time we used to talk for hours, So I'm wondering how it came to this.
Remember how we'd go out driving Around our old town, barely surviving? Your old Wrangler groaning with the radio, But something in its struggle kept our fires lit.
But now all we do is talk about the weather. You say it's cool how we have still stayed friends, And I mumble something about how I'm glad I met you, But that conversation dies where it begins.
Well, time makes strangers out of lovers. We used to hide under your covers, Dreaming of the days we'd break and make it bigtime, But so happy just to have those hours to spend.
But see, the things is, time moves in loops— And what it gives, it takes away too. And all those coulda shoulda woulda's start to haunt you, 'Til you have no other choice but calling it quits.
So all we do now is talk about the weather. I try to make a joke about the old days. You fake a laugh and say, "This frost is out of season," And I nod, 'cause I've got nothing else to say.
You've always been realistic, And I've got hopes too high to reign in, So we go back and forth in search of common ground, And we settle on the only thing that sticks.
But I'm so sick of talking about the weather, And I'm not sure how you can call this friends, 'Cause it feels just like we have never loved at all, And every word you say brings back what could have been.
So go ahead, just ask me about the weather. Ask me if it's raining at my place, too. I'll mumble something about wishing it was sunny As a stitch or two pops loose from that old wound.
I'll mumble something about hoping that you're happy. Well, it's autumn. Guess the snow should be here soon.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
