This ache
|
That follows you down
|
from wherever you both came from
|
Well it won't leave
|
Quietly
|
It just waits here noisily with me
|
|
I turn to go but quite instead
|
It sinks it's fangs into my head
|
And gnaws upon me like a greedy bone
|
The fragrant scent of parts unknown
|
I try my best but it gets worse
|
And fearful of this blessed curse
|
The moon is full I feel my teeth
|
My instincts give no sympathy for me
|
|
All I want is to stay
|
Here with you
|
for at least a couple of minutes more
|
In your front seat
|
By any reason I can find
|
My right foot still dangling out your door
|
|
This ache
|
That follows you down
|
from wherever you both came from
|
Well it won't leave
|
Quietly
|
It just waits here noisily with me
|
|
The pots and pans and bareassed bones
|
Would have me feeling all alone
|
But never fear the ache is there
|
And calmly he pulls up a chair
|
And through the night we play some hands
|
While the ache he issues his demands
|
Yeah the ache he issues his demands
|
And I'm like Custer at his lemonade stand
|
|
And all I have is this ache
|
Just to see you again
|
Though I've got no pretext to
|
And hope
|
Won't quench my thirst this time
|
Can't you see that I'm aching for you
|
|
I go to sleep when I awake
|
In the kitchen is my ache
|
He cooks me breakfast ties my shoes
|
Puts in the time he pays my dues
|
He sticks a needle in my eye
|
And haunts me like some tragic lie
|
Reminds me 'till I bend to break
|
That I've been given the gift of...
|
|
This ache
|
That followed you down
|
from wherever you both came from
|
Well it won't leave
|
Quietly
|
It just waits here noisily with me
|
|
This ache
|
That followed you down
|
from wherever you both came from
|
|
This ache
|
That followed you down
|
from wherever you both came from
|
Well it won't leave
|
Quietly
|
It just waits here noisily with me
|
|
|
Extracted from the liner notes for the Album "Truth Be Told"
|
Words by J. Popper
|
Music by B. Wilson
|
|
-----------------
|
This Ache
|
| Blues Traveler |
