Simply Simple

Mother doesn't call to check on you like the way she used to do
And your family album portrays those memories you wished viewed
Digital skeletons aren't disposed of easily, but you sit there scrolling... playing make believe

Passing time listening from your corner booth
Tuning in to the idle gossip in the afternoon
Tuning into what is said casual in a crowd
Picking up on what is whispered as the noise dies down

My friends keep telling me that they don't ever see
The friend in you, that you are to me
Now I begin to ask myself if you're the kind of friend
That'll keep all my secrets safe to the bitter end



Credits
Writer(s): Jim Para-cremer
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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