There's the scent on my dress
Of the boy I was pressed up against
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.