I think it's tomorrow

or maybe it's today

but forget all the sorrow

and forget all the dismay.

It may be a mistake

or it could be just right,

not sure if it's fake,

if it's a maybe or a might.

But why think about it

when it is so perfect?

I'll be the first to admit,

as I sit here and reflect,

that driving away that day

was something I regret

and ignoring all those clichés,

I will never forget,

wondering where did we go wrong?

I think it was yesterday

or has it been all along?

I'm not sure in this disarray

of everything that gone on

but then the secret is out,

the secret is just another con

and you, I can do without.