It's been 18 months since 
I kissed you once, so just saying "hi" just isn't going to fly, 
But if you give me a clue and a minute or two then 
I might remember your name. 
And I hate to insist that 
I was really that pissed, but to tell the truth, in my flush of youth, 
I would drown my sight until faces and nights seemed the same. 
A nervous shrug and an awkward hug won't get me out of the hole that 
I've dug, 
So I slip the noose with a poor excuse and talk to someone, anyone else. 
I sit with my friends and 
I try to pretend that 
I never did that sort of thing again 
But I'm lying to myself. 
And suddenly it's as clear as clear could be: 
I'm not quite the perfect man that 
I hoped I'd be. 
And though 
I alwasy tried to live an honest life, to tell the truth 
I've told my share of lies. 
I remember you, of course 
I do, but 
I don't recall how many times we've been though 
Our little game, that always ends the same, with you sad and me far away. 
And every time 
I repeat the line that the fault's not mine and 
I wasn't unkind, 
But the worst part is that 
I've got nothing else to say. 
All the pretty little pictures of faith and firm devotion that 
I painted as a child; 
They have fallen by the wayside, along with all my puppy-fat, 
But my days have taught me this: 
That every day 
I spend pretending that 
I always choose the right path 
Is a day that 
I choose the wrong. 
My wisdom teeth have been giving me grief; 
They woke me up to find that 
I'm exactly the kind 
Of guy I said that 
I'd rather be dead 
Than be in the days before 
I got laid.