Texty: Bright Eyes. A Few Minutes On Friday.

:
She kills with foreign films
The emptiness of day today
And I wait until the weekend comes
So I can clear this uselessness from my brain
I count the days until she arrives
Those precious minutes when she is mine
As we walk from my front door to her car
We're so close
And alone, but that will disappear
In a room filled with the warmth of others
Of others' company
There's just too much company
There's just too much company!

So I hide my wounded pride
And stare off into the other cars
If I could just speak the words
To tell her exactly how I feel

I count the ways that I might say it
But I know that none of them will work
Because she won't feel the same
I've got this far
But I can't go through with it
Because the truth would hurt too much
It hurts too much
This hurts too much!

She goes back to the west coast
To drink in the sunshine
And I will stay here in these dead plains
And try to make a seed grow
And I would pray for rain
If I thought that it would help