I'm Here,
so dazed and confused.
Your There,
unfortunately you've been accused.
The letters we write
are breaking my heart.
I read them every night
that we're apart.
Now you cannot see
the tear that falls.
How can you be behind those walls?
No one knows you,
not like I do.
"No matter what we went through,
it was me and my crew,"
plays again and again in my head.
I wish I could have been there
to help,
the night that you bled.
Your hate is so strong.
Not the same you that I knew.
No matter who's in the wrong,
I've got your back, it's true.
People have been talking,
telling you what to believe.
But those same people have been walking,
so your forgiveness is what I'm trying to receive.
I'm Here,
writing to P.O. Box 5244.
Your There,
watching them lock up your door.
It's your own fault
you used the knife.
The end result?
You ruined your life.
You think I had in my mind what happened that night.
I "must have been blind,"
I "should have predicted a fight."
I'm sorry for it all,
I've said it before.
I just want one call,
I won't ask for more.
So I'm Here,
wanting to know what I have to prove.
And your There,
so figure out your next move.
