Stroke 9 Follow

We met one Monday night where my friend bartends and always gives me drinks for
free.
I caught you staring, or were you comparing the guy you were talking with to
me.
Then you said: "This place is dead, and this drink is going to my head. Take me
home.
" I will, if you chill, there's still time to kill and this night just started
looking better.
She bought herself a guitar, and she learned a few chords. She wrote me a song
that goes like this:

Get out, get dressed, you're just like the rest, there's only one thing you're
after. You're still the same self-centered bastard. You stay out all night with
your shady friends just getting plastered. This relationship's just my latest
disaster.

I thought that I was doing everything right and giving her everything she
needs.
But I wake up one morning and all that she's left is a break-up note that
reads: You don't, and you won't ever see my side of things... Ahh come on. I
would, if I could, but everything I thought was good would just upset her.

Our points of view will never meet.
I always miss what's incomplete.