Your suitcase is packed
You're good to go,
It sucks as hell to know,
Tomorrow you'll be gone,
Now I stare at my shoes,
While you stare at the door,
You wait for me to say something,
What do I wait for?
And I'm scared as shit to ask,
Where do you go?
I'm scared as shit to know,
Tomorrow you'll be gone,
Here's my chance to say something before you go,
Twelve words are all I came up with,
I'll miss you when you go, take a coffee for the road.
Do you still have the mixtape,
I made for your birthday?
You said you wanted,
Something handmade,
You looked so sweet,
When you pretended to like it,
You could have said,
That you think,
Bruce Springsteen is bullshit.
You take milk,
I take sugar,
And sometimes I take both,
One of these beautiful days,
I follow you home.