Baby I Miss You.

One of those boys,

From a country where everything was green,

And I learned how to hold my liquor told me:

You need a tracking device attached to you.

No. I need a new pair of jeans. 

I need a rock to climb and a whiskey on the rocks.

I heard you don't talk about leaving as much,

Now that you hold her while you're sleeping every night.

I'm jealous. How sweet, how fucking romantic.

Watch me roll my eyes.

The only thing to ever make you stick around.

Talking myself into not wanting the one thing.

That would make me stick around.

That phone call they make every night.

Stupid baby words and all those fucking tears.

But I love those little messages you send me.

And all those Baby I Miss You's.