It was the night of the election,
Of second chances and weary glances.
We lay in a college dorm room
Among a mess of facts and figures
Blaring from the sideboard.
They traced the states in red and blue
And you traced my back in
Less than certain shades.
They talked about the closeness in their
Stiff collared shirts and I laughed
Because they knew nothing of it.
Of how you drew me in, with green eyes and
Butterflies and talked of tenuous little feelings
That I wanted so much to believe in.
Sometimes the good guy is clear as
Day and Night, but all I saw was
I don't know who won, not really.
All I knew was;
He would go home to the white house,
And you would go back to your girl.