Wisdom Teeth

It's been eighteen months since I kissed you once,
 So just saying "hi" just isn't going to fly,
 But if you give me a clue and a minute or two,
 Then I might remember your name.
 And I hate to insist that I was really that pissed,
 But to tell the truth, in my flush of youth,
 I would drown my sight until faces and nights seemed the same.
 And a nervous shrug and an awkward hug
 Won't get me out of the hole that I've dug,
 So I slip the noose with a poor excuse
 And talk to someone, anyone else.
 And I sit with my friends and I try to pretend
 That I never did that sort of thing again,
 But I'm lying to myself.
 And suddenly it's as clear as clear could be:
 I'm not quite the perfect man that I hoped I'd be.
 And though I always tried to live an honest life,
 To tell my truth I've told my share of lies.
 I remember you, of course I do,
 But I don't recall how many times we've been through
 This little game, that always ends the same,
 With you sad and me far away.
 And every time I repeat the line
 That the fault's not mine and I wasn't unkind.
 But the worst part is that I've got nothing else to say.
 And all the pretty little pictures of faith and firm devotion
 That I painted as a child,
 Well they have fallen by the wayside, along with all my puppy-fat,
 But my days have taught me this:
 That every day I spend pretending that I always choose the right path
 Is a day that I choose the wrong.
 Oh yes my wisdom teeth have been giving me grief –
 They woke me up to find that I'm exactly the kind of
 Guy I said that I'd rather be dead than be
 In the days before I got laid.