My waking regrets are in saying the words, in doing the deed
But the strongest ones (the ones that haunt my space between sleep and life) are for not acting, for choosing greed
Why did I make a move? Why did I listen to you?
All of these questions I have run deeper:
Why could I tell you what you meant to me?
(all I did was snap at your heels and that's not fair, is it?)
Why did I never tell you I loved you? (Pride, that's why)
Why didn't I make an exception for you? (Pride, still pride)
I spent a year alone and it would seem that's down to you
(But really, it was my pride)
Creatures like me (I wish I didn't have to say it, surely you don't wish to take a tour either)
Dwell in darkness, thrive in secret, scramble and lie
But (same as you really-we really are human) all we want is home
However makeshift (and yes, it took imagination)
You home to me
So now at this (bitter) end, I know we're over
Still, doorways strike a pang of homesickness (gross sentimentality: you'd tell me I'd gone and lost my mind)
And tobacco still smells of you (proud to have taken over my father's scent, doesn't it just reek of romance?)
I've a weapon over your head (I don't want to see you dead, but I will)
And you have ten over mine (I'm sure you're just waiting for the chance)
We're stuck in a deadlock, in a stalemate
We can't get closer, can't move away
Even after everything, even after all this
You are my biggest regret, my biggest near miss.