Intro
Verse 1
He came at six forty-seven every morning of the week
Sat in the booth by the window, frowned before he could speak
The coffee was too hot, the eggs were too dry
The orange juice tasted like a politician on a Tuesday in July
Verse 2
Annie was twenty-six, she had been a waitress two months
She apologized that morning, she said she would remake them all once
He held up one finger like a conductor calling for silence
He ate every bite anyway, and he tipped fifteen dollars in defiance
Pre-Chorus
Eleven years of mornings
Eleven years of bells
Eleven years of complaints
And one quiet thing he could not tell
Chorus
Some people can only love you sideways
Some people have to find another way
Some men come to a diner every morning at the same precise time
And they tell you everything by complaining about the orange juice line
He could not say nice things directly
So he said the chair was too soft
And he wrote the nice things in a little green notebook in his pocket
Where Annie could not see what he had said
Verse 3
On a Monday in October he did not come to booth four
On Wednesday his daughter walked in carrying his wallet and more
A small green spiral notebook with eleven years of pages inside
One line for every morning, one true thing about Annie that he could not abide
Chorus
Some people can only love you sideways
Some people have to find another way
Some men come to a diner every morning at the same precise time
And they tell you everything by complaining about the orange juice line
Bridge
Annie wore yellow today, looks like her mother used to
Annie smiled though she had been crying in the bathroom this morning
Annie remembered I take honey, not sugar
I never told her, she just knew, she just knew
He had been writing it down for eleven years
He had been writing it down
The complaints had been the love letters
The complaints had been the love letters
Final Chorus
Some people can only love you sideways
Some people walk into your morning every day for a decade
And they keep a little green notebook in a tweed coat
With eleven years of one true thing about you, every page
The next morning Annie sat in his booth at six forty-six
She poured a cup of coffee and she said this coffee is too hot
And the line cook said the chair is too soft
And the bell on the door rang in a key it never had before
Outro
Booth four
Booth four
The bell rang a key it never had before
Some people can only love you sideways