I asked her on a Spring night, Falling between swing sets,
walking around the park,In that vaccant parking lot,
glazed eyes and glowing faces, Jordan's always right.
Long talks in empty hallways, Department stores and smiles.
Neglected for a couple years, She spoke to me through smiles,
and Curse words came from perfect lips, but Jordan's always right.
Insults and bruises, this friendship is failing,
Such a temperamental figure, such an uptight heart,
harsh words to my face, scratches on my arm, but Jordan's always right.
Abused in words and seperation. She's a beautiful figure in a world of dead faces.
Afraid of looking fragile, tears roll down her smile,
she avoids eye contact by looking to the sky, And Jordan's always right.