You have your own life I know, but show up you should
|
I¡¯m disappointed, my vision blurs alone on the curb
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Eight weeks since and it¡¯s still the same
|
¡°Something just came up, I¡¯m so sorry¡±
|
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And maybe I¡¯ve got needs that you can¡¯t cure
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But I¡¯m waiting by the phone until I¡¯m sure
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Love like statistics, I¡¯ve got a head full of hell alone in my thoughts
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Kill the subject; refine the joke, which ever prompts response
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In the moments you laugh it¡¯s still not enough
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You miss me, you can¡¯t mean that
|
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And maybe you¡¯ve got needs that I can¡¯t cure
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We sleep in separate houses
|
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A Guarded head shapes the face and heart
|
So loss ain¡¯t bad
|
I¡¯m trading processing for sleep
|
So it don¡¯t seem sad that I¡¯m losing you
|
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Blotch the face, blood vessels
|
Broken heart and canvas skin
|
Write it all out you won¡¯t ever quite describe it
|
Loaned to father for weekends and given back without the interest
|
Trivialize memories, dumb it down to make it fit
|
Syllables, grammatical, read and rewrite for the reader
|
All the bitter nights in my room alone
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They won¡¯t know all my secret problems
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Or the love that overcame us both
|
An untold twenty-two year story
|
So it¡¯s one tale and then another, I was saying earlier
|
|
|
|
A Guarded head shapes the face and heart
|
So loss ain¡¯t bad
|
I¡¯m trading processing for sleep
|
So it don¡¯t seem sad that I¡¯m losing you
|
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When are you coming home
|
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Telemarket Mishap
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| Dear and the Headlights |
