Loose stringed guitars that lay on your floor.
I remember stories that filled me from the core,
Creating music with the wind through the screen door:
You'd try covering it too long, it couldn't take anymore.
An eye irritation. The words were too much.
Keeping close those eyes that were too cold to touch.
Well, the floor had spilled carpet all over the room,
Your feet were a breeze, chasing the moon.
The carpet surrendered as it started to rain,
The windows were shaken, but didn't complain.
How could it feel lonely with these promises to hold true?
I never really cared about anything that wasn't you.
I liked sleeping beside you in the summer nights,
When the sun was in the breeze, you felt just right.
Then the winter came, acting on its own device
Left the comfort of your body to turn into ice.
Now, everything's a phase and I keep brushing them off.
Some things I hope will remain but the rest can back right off.
I'm sick and hope to see the progression in this song-
Did you memorize those numbers or was it taking you too long?
So I drink to the happiness and the weightlessness,
And never having to plead for your forgiveness.
Sometimes I swear I can fly away.
Walls are shifting and I caught them as they started to say,
"I might just be a little lonely, but I'll wrap myself in paper to hide,
No point in holding a grudge against the oceans tide
It will come back, and it may even stay,
So don't you search for the moon, wishing for the day."
The postage stamps slipped through the drain,
Taught me I had nowhere I wish to remain.
I sleep in these torn sheets with a body so neat.
To keep away the dust and hold close the smell of burning feet.
