On a lark, on a whim, I said Theres two kinds of men in this world and youre neither of them And his fist cut the smoke I had an eighth of a second to wonder if he got the joke In the car headed home She asked if I had considered the prospect of living alone With a steak held to my eye I had to summon the confidence needed to hear her goodbye, And another brief chapter without any answers blew by And the songs that she sang in the shower are stuck in my head Like Bring Out Your Dead, Breakfast In Bed And experience robs me of hope that shell make it back home So Im stuck on my own Im stuck on my own In a room by myself Looks like Im here with the guy that I judge worse than anyone else So I pace, and I pray, and I repeat the mantras that might keep me clean for the day And the songs that she sang in the shower all ring in my ears Like Wish You Were Here, How I wish you were here And experience robs me of hope that youll ever return, So I breathe and I burn I breathe and I burn And the church bells are ringing for those who are easy to please And the frost on the ground probably envies the frost on the trees And the songs that she sang in the shower are stuck in my mind Like Yesterdays Wine, Like Yesterdays Wine And experience tells me that Ill never hear them again Without thinking of then, without thinking of then *sigh*
Posted on: Fri, 15 Nov 2013 00:19:00 +0000
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