if i wrote songs, you’d know this one by heart
idly hummed since the ides of March
when i woke up beneath a foreign oak tree
with rope burns for you, smoke rings for me
nothing turns out the way that i picture it
if i don’t ever feel better, i hope you remember this
you built us a palace but i can’t keep from tearing it down
i guess it gets cold whenever the light goes out
my sunshine, you say, as if it weren’t funny
with lightening on your lips, scarred knuckles bloody
the rain pours in, tomorrow we’ll patch the roof
i’ve been wet before, darling, i’m hundred proof
Brick and mortar are kindling much like sticks and stones
empty glass houses since no one’s been home
you built us a temple but i can’t keep from tearing it down
i guess it gets cold whenever the light goes out
not enough warm socks or pillows on beds,
the appointments suggest i continue my meds
so we fill up our time rebuilding ourselves
maybe this time i’ll wake up as someone else
nothing turns out the way that i picture it
if i don’t ever feel better, i hope you remember this
the heat and the glow, the fire once proud
i guess it gets cold whenever the light goes out