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cold dawn won't comfort you |
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cold coffee won't see you through |
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cold sheets won't heal your heart |
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your frozen fingers of your name so tarred |
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i know so rarely that things come your way |
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your ways are tender and your paths are straight |
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your mind's not lived in the way ours are set |
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your heart is open to love and regret |
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rings and letters they pass you by |
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you wish them well and seldom cry |
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for stones and promises and wedding sighs |
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you've known the times that you've lived and died |
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these sailors come by and spend time ashoe |
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their thoughts are hoarded as yours have been stored |
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your mind's not lived in the way ours are set |
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your heart is open to love and regret |
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outside in the morning air |
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i hear the soundtrack of the blues-harp player |
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it touches feelings that you don't arouse |
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knocks me back to that shuttered house |
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take me back when they're all out |
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take me back to that shuttered house |
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i know so rarely that things come your way |
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your ways are tender and your paths are straight |
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your mind's not lived in the way ours are set |
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your heart is open to love and regret |
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love and regret |
