For Christmas, you gave me a leather-bound journal
And a Blue Pilot G-2 10
As I looked at the innocent ink in the reservoir
I thought I knew what it would spell out, then

Looking at you cross-legged on the carpet
Underneath the Christmas tree
I felt as full of love and hopeful for the New Year
As I’d ever had a right to be

You can take your bearings from the present
Try to guess if she’s in love or just smitten
But there’s no way to know what the next page is gonna say
Until it’s been written

At times, I take my daydreams for the future
Forgetting that time is like a river
You can paddle like crazy
You can swim for safety
But it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference
No, it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference

As I fanned through those blank, unlined pages
I could almost see the songs I’d write
Odes, love songs, and sweet dedications
Private entries of tender nights

I’d been so long whining and complaining
About love that fizzled or fled
I filled a lot of Moleskines with discontent
I was gonna fill this one with love instead

At times, I take my daydreams for the future
Forgetting that time is like a river
You can paddle like crazy
You can swim for safety
But it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference
No, it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference

Just one week into the New Year
Just a couple happy pages in
You tore me out like a bad idea
I started writing sad songs again
I might never have filled that notebook
If things had stayed the same
Because love can be a little boilerplate
But the heart breaks a thousand ways

At times, I take my daydreams for the future
Forgetting that time is like a river
You can paddle like crazy
You can swim for safety
But it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference
No, it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference