Womance

Lyrics

[Intro]
We met on the bench in Prospect Park, July 14th, 2012.
Sarah with her iced latte, spilling a drop on the slat marked with old graffiti.

[Verse 1]
You confessed about Mark first, how his texts arrived at 2 AM,
like unwelcome deliveries from a store you never shopped at.
I told you about the job interview, the one where I forgot my own resume,
left it on the F train, racing away to Coney Island.
The bench listened, its iron arms unmoving,
holding the weight of our words without judgment.

[Chorus]
This is the love no language calls love,
bench-confessions stacking like unread letters in a drawer.
Sarah, your laugh when I mimic your worst habit,
the way you bite your straw until it's frayed.
We don't need rings or vows; the bench knows our pact.

[Verse 2]
Remember the inside joke about the pigeon named Harold,
who stole your pretzel on that rainy Tuesday in October 2015?
We reference it in texts, no setup needed,
just 'Harold strikes again' and we're both doubled over.
The bench has seen our tears over breakups,
Emily's promotion that felt like a demotion,
your grandmother's funeral where you wore the wrong shoes.

[Bridge]
It's platonic, they say, but deeper than that label allows.
No jealousy here, just the quiet joke of outlasting their romances.
We're the constant, like the bench bolted to the ground,
weathering storms while others fade.
Unsparing truth: this is the spine of our days.

[Outro]
So here's to the bench, our third friend,
holding the love that doesn't need a name.
Sarah, until the next confession.