(Matraca Berg/Bryant/Johnny Russ)



I'm sittin' in this cafe,

People talkin' so loud I can't hear myself think.

That's not a bad thing.

The coffee keeps on coming,

The waiter who keeps smilin' as I'm ridin' on a river of caffeine,

An' that's not a bad thing.



I used to feel sorry for someone like me,

In a corner booth pretendin' to read on a Friday night.

I used to say: "It just ain't right."

How could anybody ever have any fun,

Without somebody, without someone?

It never dawned on me,

The possibility,

That it's not a bad thing.



Those naggin' thoughts about you,

How I left without you tonight:

You know, they're few and far between.

The waiter's name is Joey, he told me,

And that's when I noticed he ain't wearing any ring.

An' that's not a bad thing.



And there is a tug on the edge of my heart,

It's you again sayin': "Don't you start lettin' go of me."

But I ain't listenin'.

For once in my life, I'll feel what I feel,

Let it be, let it be real.

Let it flow through me,

An' wash me clean.

That's not a bad thing.



As I'm drivin' home, I'm thinkin',

The worst might be over,

Or maybe I'm a little bit naive.

But the street lights seem brighter,

As I walk to my front door,

And I'm all alone when I turn the key.

An' that's not a bad thing.



I used to feel sorry for someone like me,

In a corner booth pretendin' to read on a Friday night.

I used to say: "It just ain't right."

How could anybody ever have any fun,

Without somebody, without someone?

It never dawned on me,

The possibility,

That it's not a bad thing.