I like the lines on your face They read like poetry, the kind that keeps me up too late Sometimes there's nothing left to say Sometimes there's just nothing My life has already been sung On pages from trees from before you were young The years before I was born The years I'll be left with when you are gone When you go where I can't follow I'll still sing for you, my love I like the lines on your face They say 'look at you, 22, you shouldn't have to stay up late' When you say things will be okay someday I believe you even though that's something I would never say Would you see the glass half full if it was full of poison?