Rain Check Again

[ Lyrics ]

Rain check? More like a refund request —
your excuses don’t stick.

Birthday dinner — you said your dad was sick,
I set the table, lit the candles, wore the dress you liked.
Then a text at eight: 'Can we do it next week?' 
I kept the plates warm, ate mine cold, still tasting defeat.
You called it 'life,' I called it a lie —
one rain check for the night I turned twenty-five.

And I said 'it’s fine' while the wine went flat,
made small talk with the waiter like this wasn’t that.
You don’t cancel someone you really wanna see —
you just keep them on hold with your memory.

One rain check for a birthday dinner,
two for New Year’s — you 'lost control' with your friends again.
Three for my show — 'bad headache,' but I saw your stories, baby,
four for brunch — 'family drama' that never made sense.
Rain check after rain check, stacking up like debt,
I gave you grace, you gave me regret.

You missed my gallery night — blamed time zones and flights,
but you liked my post, left no comment — just hearts on your friends’ bites.
I stood by the window, dress hugged my skin,
watching couples arrive while I played it cool within.
You said, 'We’ll make it up,' like love’s on layaway —
but I’m not a store, and you’re not coming to stay.

And I nodded slow like I bought the act,
but the script was worn, and the lines were trapped.
I don’t need another date you’ll rearrange —
I need a love that doesn’t act so strange.

One rain check for a birthday dinner,
two for New Year’s — you 'lost control' with your friends again.
Three for my show — 'bad headache,' but I saw your stories, baby,
four for brunch — 'family drama' that never made sense.
Rain check after rain check, stacking up like debt,
I gave you grace, you gave me regret.

Five for the beach trip — 'work emergency.'
Six when I wore red — 'migraine, sorry, emergency.'
Seven when I flew home — 'can’t leave the city.'

I stopped counting when I stopped believing.

One rain check too many — I cashed them all in,
traded your maybe for a 'yes' within.
No more reservations, no more standby,
my love’s not a favor — it’s not up for retry.
Rain check after rain check — the balance is paid.
I’m keeping my time — no more debt, no charade.

So keep your rain checks…
I’m booked solid with me.