I’ve been looking for the most polite, inadvertent way of saying:
I’m sorry, but you don’t quite measure up to my expectations,
The most you’ll ever be is Second Best.
You’re in constant competition with the past
And the past is winning,
But I want to keep you around for as long as possible
Cause though I really wanted the gold,
I’ll settle for the silver instead.
But that sounds too harsh
So instead I act moody and distant
And push you away the more you try to pull me closer.
I know it seems cruel,
But God honest,
I didn’t intend for it to be this way.