The book you bought me resting on an antique shelf, I left it over summer just to be myself, But I still tried to find the face to let me in. The questions for confessions left me trying to explain, Like I was grabbing sand, fingers trickled grain, But the words I sought were still there on the ground, So the truth of it was scattered all around. If I could save it for another day, Then I might make it all be okay I'll find a way. I'll find a way. Pressed into a corner, pushing back to grace A piece of my decision with a hole in space, And suspect of all I thought I'd never feel. And I was feeling tired when you came to me A convalescent effort just to hear and see As a shadow mixed desire and regret To remind me of what I'd like to forget. If I could save it for another day, Then I might make it all be okay I'll find a way. I'll find a way.