Records on the floor.
|
I'm giving back whats yours
|
remember us last weekend
|
dancing to the psychedelic furs.
|
|
I tried to tell myself
|
that we could be alright.
|
now it’s me and my
|
cigarettes and alcohol tonight.
|
|
So screen all the phone calls
|
and put the chain on the front door.
|
and if you see her
|
tell her I don’t live here anymore.
|
|
Driving neighbors crazv
|
with after hour fights
|
everything makes more sense
|
thank God that we broke it off that night.
|
|
Holding on to you
|
is like playing with broken glass.
|
I'm fighting off the memories
|
and all the living in the past.
|
|
The post cards in the drawer
|
The pictures on the wall.
|
The sound of little footsteps
|
that echo through the hall.
|
|
sound like a heart beat.
|
It’s like a heart beat
|
It’s like a heart break beat
|
and it’s beating out of me.
|
|
So screen all the phone calls
|
and put the chain on the front door.
|
and if vou see her
|
tell her I don.t live here anymore.
|
|
So pull all the shades down
|
and turn off the radio.
|
and if you see her
|
tell her I moved down to Mexico.
|
|
-----------------
|
Mexico
|
| Brandtson |
