The sky was red, good weather we hope
Ash tossed on fine sand
Pants covered in mosquitoes
Stomachs full of butterflies
Giant steps, not missteps
I grin with all 32 teeth, not under my mustache
Genoa tonight looks like Formentera
Genoa, why am I not there with you?
And your dumb pics on my phone
My memory's full and I haven't deleted them
And I'd like a place to call 'home'
Head in the clouds, how heavy it feels
I go out and drink just to forget
My memory's short and I can't forget you
The sky was black, the storm's coming
I wish things were back to how they were
When I wrote those songs for you
Playing them again is a punch in the gut
And your dumb pics on my phone
We both know I should delete them
And I don't like your blue eyes and your little digs
I don't feel like pretending I hate you
I don't like that we're already at the season finale
I don't like it, I don't like it
And I don't like that for every mistake I've always got a reason
I don't like it if you won alone and we lost together
I don't like it, I don't like it
But what does she know anyway
What does she know about me now
And I'll tell you I'm doing great
Add 'less' to 'I love you'
And let's mask this goodbye
With a 'come on, we'll talk'