I know you believe it when you say
you love me, and I know
your body doesn't lie.
And I know you mean it when you say
you'll miss me
whenever we say goodbye.

But I know, when you get home,
you hold her tight, and you swear
that she's the only one.
And I know, one day,
you'll have to stay away
'cause I know how all the stories end.

I've learned to keep myself amused
on lonely, sunny Saturdays.
I walk the streets in my high-heeled shoes,
and collect the glances coming my way.

I do my shopping, I read a book,
I go out for drinks with a friend.
I don't stay up too late,
and I've learned not to wait,
'cause I know how all the stories end.

You come over on another Tuesday night,
bringing roses in a paper sack,
and a few hours later, you say,
how you wish you didn't need to get back.

You give me a kiss, and you hold me close,
and you knock back the last of your wine.
You button your shirt, slip on your watch,
and blame all your problems on time.

You met her too early, and you found me too late
and you wish you could start over again.
I just listen to you, I have no advice,
'Cause I know how all the stories end.

And meanwhile, a few miles away across town,
she waits for the sound of your car.
She sets up the alarm clock and the coffee machine,
and doesn't bother wondering where you are.

She doesn't think about dyeing her hair, or read
what Cosmo says about holding your man.
'Cause you might get there late, but you always come home,
And she knows how all these stories end.

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