There's the scent on my dress
Of the boy I was pressed up against
Last night;
There are pictures with publicity pending
Ready to catch my crimson hand around his waist.

Yeah, he's soaked into my dress
But you've soaked into my skin.
You're a lifetime ago
And an airplane away
And you're still a part of me.

I would gladly swallow my pride for you
(I'd tell you everything—
it would be easier to forget you
but I can't make myself want to,
and I miss you as wide
As the flat prairie skies)
But it doesn't fit in my mouth.

I'd love to get through to you,
But sometimes I can hardly see your silhouette
Through the shutters of my insecurities.