We like to talk about tomorrow, next time, but there are only so many of those, sooner or later you are going to run out and realize you should have made it count when you had the chance.

Echoing through my head I moved out into the street with nothing but the lamp poles to keep me company. What if you knew I made the wrong choice all along?

That's how it started, just a glance, side by side, or was it across the room? You caught me staring, and I looked away.
Looking back at time things have changed and I wonder how you are. It's painful thinking of how things might have been if only tomorrow, next time, were not the answers given.