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I'm late...
Much too late for a slap on the wrist and a late fee.
I'm talking about that kind of late that nobody should ever be.
I've mastered the art of procrastination that has conquered the greatest nations, Where we abuse today and try to make up for it tomorrow with useless reparations, But I run to you with those reparations in hand because that's my only hope.
....Or at least I hope so....
You gave me your heart and I put it in storage and told you maybe later.
It's funny how quickly the hated can become the hater.
I know you hated me running around after every skirt that caught my eye,
Now I can't help but hate whenever I hear about this new guy.
I wish I could stomp around screaming about how he ain't me,
But that's probably the exact reason why he's sitting where I want to be.
I just pray for another chance without wickedly wishing for yall to break up.
Maybe I'll go to sleep and you'll be mine by time I wake up....
