Scarlett

We stand at South Station Crossed arms and forced conversation Neither wanting to take blame for some Altercation I can't reclaim, but we talk Yeah we talk Yeah we talk 'Cause a bitter farewell's bad luck We argue with crimson violet Hot stares and cold flower silence I guess that's our way, you and me Tender hearts, temper fits And that's the way it'll be Unless we try and change it But I hate Yeah I hate How it makes me still feel like a kid At the station I think of Scarlett An old friend from the farmer's market She's encyclopedic on greenery and seedlings And likes lots of people but keeps to herself After spending the year by a hospital bed And now Scarlett has no one to argue with Scarlett has no one to argue with Scarlett has no one to argue with And I start to lose taste for our arguments Knowing Scarlett has no one to argue with