Good cry

Sunday night, have a good cry
Wipe my eye, as the light died

I can't help but see your eyes from here
But I, a thousand miles away
And years ago

This time I tell 'em white lies
Walk my eyes, say I'm alright

I can't help but see your eyes from here
But I, a thousand miles away
And years ago

She said, "Don't try; figure it out
You won't find me thinking about you
Know that we're both better off this way
And I guess I won't make a sound
You won't find me crying about you
Know that there's just nothing else to say."

(Don't try; figure it out
You won't find me thinking about you
Know that we're both better off this way
And I guess I won't make a sound
You won't find me crying about you
Know that there's just nothing else to say.)

I can't help but see your eyes from here
But I, a thousand miles away
And years ago