Text: Counting Crows. Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings. Anyone But You.

I'm always thinking of someone new
I'm never sitting, okay with you
There's always something else on my mind
There's always something I can't find

You think about anything you can
I think about you
I'll think about anything, it's true

I'm almost perfect some of the time
I'm also sinking some of the time
I'm almost ready, yeah it's almost true
For almost anyone but you

You think about anything you can
I think about you
I'll think about everything, it's true, true, true

I'm always sinking beneath the sand
You're holding nothing in your hand

You think about anything you can
I think about you
But I'll think about anything, it's true
True, true, true, true, true
True, true, true, true, true
True, true, true, true, true