All the cars are lined up on a Saturday night - Ryan Adams

I feel just like a map
Without a single place to go of interest
And I'm further north than south
If I could shut my mouth
She'd probably like this.

These things inside me, they repeat like broken records
Spinning pretty things behind my eyes
And when I can't look at you
I can paint your picture perfectly in my mind
And when I get old
I'm gonna miss you all the time.

Note to self: don't change for anyone