I would've written you a song,
something sweet and just right,
that'd knock you off your feet.
Oh, I'd write it on the wall,
in a dozen notebooks, I'd fill them all.
I would take a moment, look them over,
then scatter the pages.
Words are everything, it seems,
though simple actions speak much louder.
Who would have thought,
this would be about you and me?
What a broken duet.
Oh, I'd write it on the wall,
in a dozen notebooks (maybe more),
I'd fill them all (front and back, each page),
Look them over, just a moment,
Then rip apart each page.
Please tell me those unspoken phrases,
let me see that feeling in your eyes.
I would've written you a song,
would've told you every lie, made everything better,
would've let you know, that I'm hiding everything.
You can have it all now.
It was yours anyway.
Broken heart, a hundred pieces on the floor,
Didn't take it well, left everything on the ground.
I'm nothing but a voice without ability.
A charity case without destination.
Oh, I'd write it on the wall,
in a dozen notebooks, I'd fill them all.
