I packed my bags with no regret, I was gone before the first goodbye was set. It's just easier that way. And since that day it's all I've known, leaving is the start of coming home. That's all that keeps me sane. It's a different world between plastic keys and elevators, funny how a dream can make you cry. It's a different world between pots and pans and kitchen tables, but I wouldn't change a minute of my life. But I wouldn't change a minute of my life. Wake up calls and carpet floors, sleeping in a room that's never yours, watching TV on demand. To a broken couch and a car alarm, knowing that I'll wake up in your arms, doing nothing just because we can. It's a different world between plastic keys and elevators, funny how a dream can make you cry. It's a different world between pots and pans and kitchen tables, but I wouldn't change a minute of my life. No, I wouldn't change a minute of my life. As crazy as it sounds, I've lived this life for so long, I've learned that goodbyes are the cross I have to bear. And if God gave me a chance to do it all again, well I wouldn't change a minute of my life. Cause it's a different world between plastic keys and elevators, funny how a dream can make you cry. It's a different world between pots and pans and kitchen tables, but I wouldn't change a minute of this life. But I wouldn't change a minute of my life. *