Subj : Lyric
To   : All
From : Angus Mcleod
Date : Mon Jul 11 2005 09:13 pm

	She grabs her magazines.
	She packs her things and she goes.
	She leaves the pictures hanging on the wall.
	She burns all her notes.
	And she knows,
	she's been here too few years
	to feel this old.

	He smokes his cigarette,
	he stays outside 'til it's gone.
	If anybody ever had a heart,
	well, he wouldn't be alone.
	He knows,
	she's been here too few years
	to be gone.

	And we always say,
	it would be good to go away,
	someday.
	Yeah, but if there's nothing there to make things change,
	if it's the same for you, I'll just hang.

	The trouble, understand,
	is she got reasons; he don't.
	Funny, how he couldn't see it all, 
	'til she grabbed up her coat.
	And she goes.
	She's been here too few years
	to take it all in stride.
	Yeah, but still it's much too long,
	to let the hurt go.

	And we always say,
	it would be good to go away,
	someday.
	Yeah, but if there's nothing there to make things change,
	if it's the same for you, I'll just hang.
	The same for you, I'll always hang.
	Well, I always say, it would be good to go away.
	Oh, but if things don't work out like we think,
	and there's nothing here to ease the ache,
	but it there's nothing there to make things change,
	If it's the same for you, I'll just hang.



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