This is the place where she lay her head
|
when she went to bed at night
|
And this is the place our children were conceived
|
candles lit the room at night
|
|
And this is the place where she took the razor
|
and cut her wrists that fateful night
|
And I said, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
|
And I said, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
|
|
This is the place where we used to live
|
I paid for it with love and blood
|
These are the boxes kept on the shelf
|
Filled with her poetry and stuff
|
|
And this is the room where she cut her wrists
|
that odd and fateful night
|
And I said, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
|
And I said, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
|
|
I never would have started if I'd known
|
that it would end this way
|
But funny thing, I'm not at all sad
|
that it stopped this way
|
|
This is the place where she lay her head
|
when she went to bed at night
|
And this is the place our children were conceived
|
candles lit the room at night
|
|
And this is the place where she took a razor
|
and cut her wrists that fateful night
|
And I said, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
|
And I said, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
|
|
-----------------
|
The Bed
|
| Dave Navarro |
