I've got a box of your old love letters. They smell like your perfume. They used to make me shudder in my room in New York-so far away. I'd drag my feet on the street. I could not sleep and had headaches. You're crossing Lake Ponchatrain, driving in the dark, feeling alone. Six hours from now, you'll be six hours from home. And I'm letting go for good I hope. I'm letting go for good I hope. Because I don't love you anymore, and I'm not feeling guilty. It may not seem like much to you, but I'm choosing this, and that means we're through. Are we really supposed to know each other? What makes us decide that we want to be together? In your eyes there are no lies and in mine a circle of time. You've seen me, known me, laid by my side so many times. Everything feels different. Because I don't love you anymore, and I'm