We loved this house once, we made it a home And I wept — afraid my waking life was an ocean And I am not on your tide, I am not on your tide I used to have it memorized — the sound of you entering a room Bucks County prom king loves talk radio And an impressionist marriage all laid out on his impressionist's table I can't sleep, I'm not tired I can't sleep, I've realized At some point you decide if you want to love or be loved more And I chose wrong