Lately

Lately, i don’t think you of you at all
Or wonder what you’re up to or how you’re getting on
I never think of calling you or how things could have been
Or wonder where you sleep at night or whose arms you wake in

I mean, this is pretty true. I don't. I haven't, not for a while now. I mean, I don't really care. I am sure you are fine, sure you are more than fine. But, yes, if I am honest, it isn't all true. You probably knew that; others probably knew that, too. I'd say it was mostly true, and kind of not true.


I’m living alone living alone i don’t need you anymore
Living alone living alone i don’t need you anymore
Lately,

I mean, this isn't really true. I don't feel like I am living alone. There is plenty of love, of all sorts, in my life. There are plenty of people, of all sorts, in my world. I don't need you; I never needed you. That is all true--all true.

I don’t get lost in daydreams
I never lay awake at night staring in my bed
And i don’t think about your face or anything you’ve said
And i don’t think twice when someone says your name

I mean, I don't anymore. I did a while ago, about this time . . . on numerous occasions . . . well, yeah, I did. I did for various reasons, too. I would lay awake quite often, sometimes with you next to me, and most times with you not. But, lately, I don't--I don't lie, don't lie awake, don't think of your face, or even your name.

Or wonder when the day will break or when the tides will turn
And i don’t break down when someone says your name
Or twist my mind in circles wondering which of us to blame

I mean, the day broke a long time ago. And, then it broke again. The day keeps breaking, over and over. The day turns to night, and then to day again. You know? I don't love the dark as much as some people think.


I’m living alone living alone i don’t need you anymore
Living alone living alone i don’t need you anymore.
Lately, i don’t think you of you at all.
Lately, lately, oh lately.

Lately . . . for the first time in a while, I have thought of you . . if I am honest. I thought of you and what it would be like to meet again, not for any reason or expectation beyond a meeting. But, I have wondered. I wondered enough to think old thoughts, ones I had fooled myself into thinking were no longer inside my head. I have thought long enough to even read old words--yes, word I truly thought were no longer there--ones I had erased, but not erased good enough. And, man oh man, . . . lately, oh lately . . . those words stung once again. I found words there I am not sure I even registered the first time I was supposed to have read them. "I'm his." Man, a night after . . . hours after . . . the pain . . . the hurt . . .

Now? Now, all the intrigue--the rosy feelings--the ideas of steadily meeting for an encounter--the vague, undeveloped, unacknowledged thoughts of friendship . . . well, I think the lately will now turn to . . . too late? Too late?

Now that is the question, right? If we are going to bring thoughts and wonders and cares . . .

Well, who was too late? It was always supposed to be me, but in reality . . . man, the revelations, the remembrances, the admissions, the guilt . . . all too late.

Man, oh man . . . lately, oh lately . . . I have stayed up wondering about if it is too late to even see--meet--shake--one more time, just for fun or to close or to leave it warmer than the last time--and now, oh now, it is too much.