Thinking of you is a waste of time, but I’ve never been frugal, so who cares?
Certainly not me, and certainly not you
Definitely not you—and who cares about them?
Thinking of you is always a waste of time, especially when the phone is right there, and my mouth is right here
But I’m tired, and I can’t feel my legs anymore
My arms won’t move, and my eyes remain fixed on the ceiling
Did you know it’s full of cracks? Just like my head
Just like my—or was that your—heart
I think it was ours; I think they were ours
My heart, your heart, our hearts
It’s all the same…right? Wrong—you said it was wrong
I remember, you told me it was wrong—all wrong
But what was it?
Was it you, was it me? No…it was us
It was always us
Thinking of you is a waste of time, but I’ve got too much of it, so who cares?
Not me, and not you
Certainly not you—definitely not you
And them…I don’t even want to think about them
They’re worse than a waste of time; they’re all a waste of life
A waste of breath—a waste of me
Or was that you?
I think it was us…it was always us
Wasting each other, wasting our time
I still can’t feel my legs, but I can reach the phone
I can reach you
I’m tired of just thinking; I’m tired of being wasted
I want to take my time now and spend it with you, on you and me
Forget about them, it’s all about us
It’s all about us; we’re wasting us
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad