Three Years Too Late

It’s nice you think
Your arm fits perfectly
Around my shoulder

You seem to feel
That you have a right to be
Saying those sweet nothings

But my shoulder can’t bear all that weight
And those sweet nothings
Don’t mean something to me

Give me a call
Three years ago and maybe
I’ll respond the way you want

Flash that smile
Back when I noticed
And I’ll be ready to blush.