when I called your house, they made excusesnsaid you were out, it was uselessnto try and track you downnI've gotten so much better nownI understand that I don't want to knownwhere you could be foundnI went to your housenyou had already gone out for the nightnyou know how I always have to be rightnnand you think that one daynI may call you back to the stagenwell, maybe, but it won't be todaynnlast time we spokenyou acted like it was a jokenthat you kept between the bedsheets and menwell, between the sheetsnwe could tell the truth for weeksnbut if you lied to them, you'd lie to mennand you think that one daynI may call you back to the stagenwell, maybe, but it won't be todaynnI went to your housenthat's the last time I'll call you outnuntil you learn to not lie every time you open your mouthnbut until that day, I don't even want to hear your namenin casual conversation with your friendsnnand you think that one daynI may call you back to the stagenwell, maybe, but it won't be the samenyeah, maybe, but don't wait up for me