Pack The Car

I sit on this worn wooden stool
   at my kitchen counter
Thinking of you.
I hear the cars outside and wonder
If you've finally lost your mind
And come out to see me...
I wonder, would you care enough
To make that effort
I wonder, are you sitting somewhere,
Thinking of me...

In the movies (smile)
When a man feels like I do now,
He leaves it all behind,
   packs up his junky car,
       drives across the country;
To find the woman he loves
Then he makes his speech
Then she — with moist eyes — accepts him
With open arms

This is not a movie, I know
But my keys dangle from my fingers
As I consider the drive.
I've got just enough cash in my wallet
To get me to where you are
Not enough to get back (smiling, with tears)

If I had even an inkling
That I'd meet with a positive reception,
I'd leave in the morning.
But life so far has hardened me
To such flights of fancy.

Then I get the feeling that
I'd just be another second-rate stalker to you
I feel like the nerdy teenager
With a crush on the prom queen
And he knows she'd never go for it.
(I was a nerdy teenager,
Remember? You were there.)
You weren't the prom queen, were you?
Well, you should have been.

I feel like the comic relief character
In a serious movie drama
You know, the one who never gets the girl,
'Cause she's just too hot?

As I lay down, and flip off the light
For my final thoughts of the day
I fold my hands behind my head
Listen to the cool Spring breeze that whispers your name
And smile wistfully
Maybe I missed my chance
Maybe I never had a chance
And you'd probably laugh at the
Way I dance.

I look around and see the things
I've amassed for myself
The things I buy to feel better
The computer that holds my printed thoughts
   (many of them about you)
The music that soothes my soul
The oven where I cook my lonely meals

And I wonder: Who's in charge?
Has Fate written our stories
So that we'll never cross each other's paths again?
Does Destiny decide to draw us apart?
Or do we make our own roads?

I don't know how to end this rambling,
   pitiful cry for help,
But I've learned a few lessons
(My gun is safely stored away)

And I can't decide
    — Would I rather be alone than to take the chance?
    — Or would I rather take the chance of you
       breaking my heart, instead of knowing I
           didn't have the guts?
For that matter, I think one heartbreak more would
   do me in
And I'm no longer convinced
That true love exists...

You can see I'm a little shaky right now...
Maybe I'll go pack the car.