I'm just passing time.
We're passing time.
You with your life abroad,
and mine, with my books and pens.
Yeah, we're both passing through right?
Some nights, I lay around and reminisce about the time we said to each other, "I can't wait to grow up together" or when you said, "I want a built in closet".
Guess what, we grew up. Just not together.
And the house that I live in, have a built in closet.
I'm pretty sure your house over in Tyne has one too.
But still, I wonder wouldn't it be great if my clothes are hanged next to yours?
Wouldn't it be nice if my pants are folded with yours?
Wouldn't it?
Perhaps, Time will tell if I would ever meet you again,
Or perhaps, Fate will decide if we're meant for each other.
And until then, we both have to live our lives to the fullest.
Somehow I still keep that broken promise,
And you're trying to let go of this deep wound I've caused.
And until then, we are both,
passing time