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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I can't help but feel sad as I paint this picture of love With you watching, hinting how he should look like you Knowing that she looks like me; But it wouldn't be right To paint him in your likeness, and I let his face be Blank, so we can both pretend, to keep you happy, That it's you and me smiling beneath an apple tree A lovely facade, a mix of right and wrong, Crying inside, as I sing you this song It isn't right to string you along Making you think that it's you all along Who keeps the smile on my face I take the paint and in his place I write, "It isn't you." It isn't you. I think as you turn your head away, You try to make it seem like some mistake Excuses run through your mind I wonder which one you'll find You remark on the inner meaning of my painting The sad story it tells that you never relate, Never relate to yourself. I'm putting paints back on the shelf As you awkwardly mumble your reason and good bye I turn off the lights, sit at my window, and sigh It wouldn't be right to spare your feelings with a lie Even if that was our last good bye It's better to know the truth than for everything to seem Like it could go according to your dream It wouldn't be right to string you along Making you think that it's you along The man who keeps this smile on my face Is miles and miles away from this place But, I sigh, "It isn't you." It isn't you.
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