Over
and it happened on a wednesday when they curse the weak
and he met me after work, clearly very short of sleep
he'd been packing all night, running errands all day
while i was writing him a letter with all the nothings i could say
which i slipped into his jacket when he went to use the phone
and i remembered for a moment what it's like to be alone
and i drove him to the depot where we both tried not to cry
and as that big blue bus pulled out i saw my right hand wave goodbye
but it doesn't feel like it's over
doesn't feel like it's over
doesn't feel like it's over yet
headed back through the city with the radio soft
tried to park him by the curb, walked up to my loft
sat down by the tv with a left-over meal
but my food needed salt and the people weren't real
and it doesn't feel like it's over
doesn't feel like it's over
doesn't feel like it's over yet
you can leave me like a wave in the ocean
and i can turn from the tide
i can pick up sand, let it slip through my fingers
while you wash up on the other side
now i step through the hoops and i swing from day to day
and i look at other men but they seem so far away
and i know he's even farther and that i should let them in
but then why do i still sense him on every single inch of my skin?
it doesn't feel like it's over
doesn't feel like it's over
doesn't feel like it's over
doesn't feel like it's over
doesn't feel like it's over
doesn't feel like it's over, yet