Judging by your pauses on the phone,
What's left unsaid is better left unknown.
Maybe we'd be better off alone.
The way we used to feel, it only comes & goes.
It comes & goes.
In the middle of the night I'm pleading.
And I know that you're not really sleeping.
By the half-light of the dawn I'm seething,
Counting every minute until you're leaving.
You come & go.
At least we used to care enough to shout.
Now we'd rather have our peace than have it out.
Uncertainty's been swallowed up by doubt.
I guess this is what my folks were always sighing about.