Wonder how -- wonder why --
she gets so busy all the time,
and falls right -- yeah, just right --
off the grid,
only to come back and then say
that I'm her only "baby",
and write to me with emojis,
even though we're hittin' up our mid-twenties.
I'm probably, definitely, older than she
but she has so much on her plate,
and copes with it better than I ever could,
but I'm not surprised
'cause I think I'm just... not-that-great.
Yeah, I wanna lose track of time
with her red hair in my face.
Yeah, I wanna forget my past-lives
and just enjoy her taste, chin, and space.
Come on, baby, baby,
come and sit with me.
I want your company,
and I'll even write your name
in a notebook that I'll never read
'til I'm thirty-three,
and I want you to hold my hand