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So she says come in from the rain and, well, hell |
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I came in from the rain |
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It was cold, she had room |
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Hell, I suppose I'm not averse to being tamed |
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But things go how they go and |
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Come the snow I was starving in my sleep |
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With every road away closed and a fridge full of shit that didn't keep |
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We stayed in, dodged our friends, did some |
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Drugs and our best to disappear |
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In self-loathe and in lust and giving |
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In to the easiest fears |
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Still the worry piled up, and I said, "Sister, |
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We won't ever be free" |
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And I really made a mess of that scene after it made a mess of me |
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Then when the days all got shorter, I said |
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"It's hard to even say now who I am" |
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I hadn't told the truth in months, no, I'd been |
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Lying even to my lamb |
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And she said "stay tough," but, sister, it's |
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Hard, and I'm feeling down |
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'Cause I got death in my meat |
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And I'm tired of dragging it around |
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So then owing less trait to any woman |
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Or man than a beast |
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I packed up what was left of my shit in one bag to head east |
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Towards a love so bitter, so taxing, so sad it was alarming |
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And then even the good neighbor's kids, they seemed more vicious than charming |
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So I sat at your window like some sad old pit bull |
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Cocked my ears and barked at the door at any, every old sound I did hear |
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And stayed up long into the nights pacing |
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And wishing that I had been strong |
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'Cause I listened to my friends about this one, and on this one they were wrong |
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So fuck it, no more a mole in the ground or a bear in the winter |
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Let it be broken glass and bones |
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Let it be scratches and stitches and splinters |
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All right, tides going out, coming in and then leaving again |
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The moon chasing the sun after the |
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Moon and then it's dusk on your skin |
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And it's a long and difficult dance, but I think that maybe it's still good |
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Even though we all dance sometimes to a song that we don't love like we should |
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Yeah, even though we all have to dance sometimes to a song that we don't love like we should |
