|
My old addiction
|
Changed the wiring in my brain
|
So that when it turns the switches
|
Then I am not the same
|
|
So like the flowers toward the Sun
|
I will follow
|
Stretch myself out thin
|
Like there's a part of me that's already buried
|
That sends me out into this window
|
|
My old addiction
|
Is a flood upon the land
|
This tiny lifeboat
|
Can keep me dry
|
But my weight is all
|
That it can stand
|
|
So when I try to lean just a little
|
For just a splash to cool my face
|
Ahh that trickle
|
Turns out fickle
|
Fills my boat up
|
Five miles deep
|
|
My old addiction
|
Makes me crave only what is best
|
Like these just this morning song birds
|
Craving upward from the nest
|
These tiny birds outside my window
|
Take my hand to be their mom
|
These open mouths
|
Would trust and swallow
|
Anything that came along
|
|
Like my old addiction
|
Now the other side of Day
|
As the springtime
|
Of my life's time
|
Turn's the other way
|
|
If a swan can have a song
|
I think I know that tune
|
But the page is only scrawled
|
And I am gone this afternoon
|
But the page is only scrawled
|
And I am gone this afternoon
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
My Old Addiction
|
| k d lang |
