when everything we felt failed
|
and some music soft in distant sails
|
but it don't sound like it did before
|
then i know i'm left with nothing more
|
than my own soul
|
when pretty pictues face back
|
but your coats aren't hanging on the rack
|
and blue water turns to
|
a place that i can't get to
|
a place that i can't
|
in a room all i feel
|
is the cold that you left
|
through the air all i see
|
is your face full of blame
|
what's left to see
|
what's there to see
|
|
in the room all i feel
|
is the cold that you left
|
through the air all i see
|
is your face full of blame
|
what's left to see
|
what's there to see
|
what's left to see
|
|
-----------------
|
Songs For A Blue Guitar
|
| Red House Painters |
