Two night stand, third floor walkup New York, the brink of autumn I run and catch the last bus Just in time A penny on the sidewalk The more that he and I talk You Irish exit my thoughts For the night It’s not a love match My shoes on his front mat It’s not a must-have But it’s nice One plane ticket will be taking me home I might miss him, but I probably won’t He tasted like a fresh start Like coffee and a question mark And even if we’d passed you on the edge of Central Park I don’t think I’d have noticed it Does that mean that I’m over it? Eight months of walking backwards Rereading finished chapters Replaying moments, captured Funny how what I thought mattered Fades in the darkness Of a stranger’s apartment Fleeting and harmless But it’s nice ‘Cause this time tomorrow One plane ticket will be taking me home I might miss him, but I probably won’t He tasted like a fresh start Like coffee and a question mark And even if we’d passed you on the edge of Central Park I don’t think I’d have noticed it Does that mean that I’m over it? Two night stand, third floor walkup New York, the brink of autumn I run and catch the last bus Just in time