Bowling For Soup

Her finger traced I love you
In the palm of my hand
Thats still the only time
My bellys ever hit the floor like that
Your feet in my lap
We drove the past
Knowing we would turn around again
[chorus:]
Tell her Im not sorry
Mention my ferrari
Just dont tell her that
I miss her
She wanted in
I wanted out
And thats the last thing we talked about