Sort Of

Baby you've got the kind of hands to rip me apart
and Baby, you've got the kind of face to start this old heart
But your eyes are warning me
This early morning
That my love's too big for you, my love

Baby, you've got the kind of laugh that waters me
And makes me grow tall and strong and proud
And flattens me
I find you stunning
But you are running me down
My love's too big for you, my love

Baby you've got the sort of eyes that tell me tales
That your sort of mouth just cannot say, the truth impales
That you don't need me
But you won't leave me
My love's too big for you, my love

And if I was stronger then I would tell you no
If I was stronger then I would leave this show
If I was stronger then I would up and go
But here I am
And here we go again

~Ingrid Michaelson