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The One Thing
Your Smith
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I was into you boy like, I thought, nothing else.
You see, I keep falling too fast.
I'd met no other man who had the same hands,
Who worked them from day until night,
Who worked them from holding me to picking fights.
(Fits of rage)
Coming to my face like nothing I have ever known
But fits of rage was something I could deal without so I had to let him go.
You got to move on.
You got to let him go.
It's never just the one thing and that's how you know that you got to let him go.
And my baby with the long hair, one of those artist types
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