Hello, my foul weather friend.
|
These thick sheets of rain
|
seem to have hindered your way again
|
and the winds, I can feel the winds, they've gotten so strong,
|
no wonder You're back to our home.
|
My ears are always open to your laments
|
and my will is always weak for your advances,
|
and I'll play the maid and clean up the mess
|
Your face, I look at your face and it's changed since we last spoke
|
it s weathered and beautiful,
|
so weathered and so beautiful
|
please have a seat, I was going anywhere
|
but that can wait
|
because I'd rather have you here while I can
|
then I'll pack it all up and take you with me again
|
My ears are always open to your laments
|
and my will is always weak for your advances,
|
and I'll play the maid and clean up the mess
|
I wasn't like anyone else
|
so real and so strong, so you said
|
it's always," welcome back, I'll take your bags "
|
things haven't changed much since you left my side
|
and though your rooms been unoccupied,
|
I have tried to give it up.
|
So here are my ears again and here are my arms
|
and here are my hopes again,
|
just please keep coming back.
|
|
-----------------
|
Maid
|
Matt Nathanson |