Lyrics

My dear one,
I was afraid that if I wrote you
You would think I was being too sentimental.
The lost art of pen to paper,
The feel of those paragraphs coming together,
It’s like music, but better.
(That’s a lie. Music is better.)

Letters in my hands
Stamps in my heart
Many times I’ve tried to send these words to you
Running out of ink
Running out of room
Running out of time to send these words to you
What can I do?

But regardless, I wanted to let you know
That I think of you with such consistency
Caught up in the thought of your gorgeous symmetry
And at times you make me feel that my heart is in its infancy
Endless and open to the brilliance of you.

Letters in my hands
Stamps in my heart
Many times I’ve tried to send these words to you
Running out of ink
Running out of room
Running out of time to send these words to you
What can I do?

And the truth of the matter is, and I hope it’s okay that I tell you this,
My heart leaps into my throat every time I check the mail.
Pages you’ve touched and words you’ve brought together
Just because you care, and for a moment, I find my center
Because the best thing about you writing me a letter
Is that it’s you
And you’re writing me a letter

Letters in my hands
Stamps in my heart
Many times I’ve tried to send these words to you
Running out of ink
Running out of room
Running out of time to send these words to you
What can I do?