I don't think anyone can hear me sing.

I think that my songs don't mean anything
to anyone but me.

And even though it's your song
and I can't hear it either unless you sing the harmony part...

You don't sing.
Because you don't know that without your voice they don't mean anything.

And I can't leave you.

And you don't know me.
Somehow, you don't know me. I don't know how that happened.
It's supposed to be different than that.

I know it's better without me.
Somehow, it's better without me.
Even though I made it, it fits better, and I realized that I was gone for too long and the wound closed and healed and now I don't fit back where I was.

And I'm sorry.
And sometimes you're not sorry.
And you don't know that we grew up.

And even though you're true, true, true
and not one can find fault in you...

You don't sing, and no one can hear the emptiness except for me.

When you sing, I know where my voice fits.
But sometimes there's quietly no room for it.

I don't think anyone can hear my songs.