The problem with this boy is that he can’t kiss
And the way that his fingers encircled my wrists
Left those pressure points swelling below my tattoo
When he fingered the outline like you used to do


And the problem with this boy is that he’s too nice
See, my parent’s, they love him, they give him advice
On those dreams that he has which line right up with theirs’
And I’m starting to miss my mom’s fiery glares

When she aimed them at you, I knew you were my own
And I wanted to run with you far from this home
(So I called it, we both knew that it was more like
Somewhere I could hang out till we started at life)

And the problem with this boy is that he’s too still
And his legs never shake when he feels unfulfilled
And he never bursts into my room late at night
Full of questions and passions and wanting to fight

And this boy is quite swell, but his clothing is neat
And he won’t grow his hair out; he washes his feet
And he doesn’t play bass in an indie rock band
When he asks me a question, he doesn’t demand.
He’s a good-looking boy, but the problem with this
Is that he never sucks on my lip when we kiss
And he never gets angry, and I never cry
And when I’m unreasonable he’ll comply

And the issue I’m facing is getting quite clear
That this boy never plans to take off; disappear
Cause he doesn’t have dreams that are bigger than me
Doesn’t crave for a world where there’s much more to see

And I know he won’t leave me, he won’t run away
To pursue stupid passions that led him astray
But the problem with this boy, I’ll tell you quite true
Is that simply, he’s just never going to be
You.

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