I hit hard.
You know you never think you’re going to, until the people stop:
Good Samaritans I’m writing to you.

He’s the only one that would think to tell it that way.
And I appreciate it, even though I never say that I do.

It hit hard.
I’m so sick of never eating the food at lunchtime, when I’m in my tan and blue.
Yeah, he’s the only one that would think to tell it that way.

“He’s got some flat tires, so we’re running just a little late.”
I could take the freeways down if I didn’t want to make October.
I could stay inside my house, but I never like the streets swept.
I can’t wait to get out of the house. I can’t thank you enough.