does he think of me? in the wee hours of the morning.
i like to think that’s where i’ll be
that hour before the sun

and then i’m gone (ooooooh)

does he think of me? in the late afternoon
when the sun makes it’s falls
i like to think that’s where i’ll be
the shadows casting on his walls

and then i’m gone (ooooooh)

drifting in and out of his conscious mind
I like think that he’s all mine
and in his lucid dreams, I hope the sky is red.
And that he chooses me instead.

does he think of me when listening to a song
where the melody slows down
I like to think that’s where I’ll be
the minor chord before the breakdown

and then I’m gone (ooooooh)

chorus

instead

of his fascination with
being always right 
putting up a fight
cause it would lead to better times.

or else I’m gone (ooooooh)