I thought I was a writer, that I could write the script And every word I made you say sounded stale out of your lips But I still wrote and you still read along I didn't want to walk away from all that we had built So I sat silently in my guilt While you danced, I stood still Holding on, pieces of the past And how, my God, did I think it could last? When I've seen the work my hands have done And I found I was the wrong one My youth blinded me to all that you had felt Though what was never considered were the cards that I'd been dealt But you still played and I was torn Well, I saw where the line was, but I clearly walked across And the look on your face made my stomach turn and toss 'Cause I knew that you were lost Holding on, pieces of the past And how, my God, did I think it could last? When I've seen the work my hands have done And I found I was the wrong one In the summer I'll be married, and your family will have grown And the words of forgiveness that we never spoke Will be known, will be known