Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red. You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed. And your mothers telling stories about you on the tee-ball team. You tell me about your past thinking your future was me. And you were tossing me the car keys, f*ck the patriarchy, key chain on the ground, we were always skipping town. And I was thinking on the drive down, any time now, he's gonna say it's love, he never called it what it was.