It's not what you say,
It's what you don't.

What are we doing here?
Was that another year?

I'm sorry I can't decide.
I'm sorry I need your time.

I'm just afraid of making that leap.
I'm just, afraid. 

I know that you would be relieved
If I told you that I believed

In people's ability to change
And gracefully rearrange

All of the habits we have grown
In false secrets we don't own.

But I don't think I believe.
I cannot give you that reprieve.

Not yet - at least... My dear,
My soul feels full, this year. 

And I am trying to see it
To feel it and to breathe it.

To want what I've got
And not pine after what's not

Mine or not going to be
Mine for eternity.

Okay, I think that's enough
My now, my comfort, my love.