I can't fix all the problemsI can't see nIt's such a mystery I guess I'm not as perfect as you thoughtnAnd promise me that when I'm next to younThose telephonic words were nothing more than our lack of presencenBecause I know when roads are blocking us we forget how to feelnnnMap out the problemsnAnd tell me where I should have gonenI'm sorrynThat our arms can't stretch over statesnnnSo what's the point of asking do you care?nBecause all I can hearnare my apologiesnSo wrap up your irrationalitynAnd spoil someone elsennnMap out the problemsnAnd tell me where I should have gonenI'm sorrynThat our arms can't stretch over statesnnnI'll only ask you once (x4)nnnMap out the problemsnAnd tell me where I should have gonenI'm sorrynThat our arms can't stretch over statesnnnHonestly I'm sorry I always called at the wrong times.nnnnn