I'm good at playing scenes in my headnIn my headnWhen those scenes turn from fictionnWell it hasn't mattered yetnnBut when I left for the train that morningnAnd you walked with me through the streetsnThe night still covering usnThose tears I'd never seennnBut you tell me about the next morningnThey came so unexpectedlynAll I could say was I'm sorrynI'm sorrynnWe tried to hidenWhat we knew from the startnnSo we stayed in touchnAs close as the minutes would allownOver letters and thoughtsnIt was like I never leftnnBut the sad truth is what we both knewnIs we were donenThe second I got on that train to catchnMy plane homennAnd here's where my best fiction always winsnAnd here's where my best fiction always winsnnWe could make the promises that lovers donWe could take the past and all the sad miscuesnBut here we are backed into a foreign dream