This is when I find out that a spark can light this house on fire.
And the shaprest hint of the scent of your hair can bring me down.
At one thirty, when I realize you're not with me,
Well does it hurt you? That I don't call you?
This is to say that all I want to do,
Is write another song for you, and play the guitar,
But first I've got to find out where you are.
So your cologne can put this fire out,
And stop this place from burning down,
Into ashes of what I was and into all I want to be,
With you in New York City, someday.
I know you're farther than I think you are,
And Spring left me with nothing but kerosene,
(With the hope that this wind will blow me through your long, blonde hair.)
So I wash my face and I clean my veins,
And I hope that something will stop me,
To erase all the past ten months have put me through.
But I'm still lost in this corner that you sat me in,
For keeping my hands to you.
But it's cool, and my bed is warm, and I can't let go.
Let go of all these feelings I've had, while thinking of you,
But you ask me to. And you beg me to.
It may not be that obvious, but I know you're begging me to do it,
One more time.
I don't want to say goodbye, that word has passed through me so many times,
Since January, but I'm just now catching on.
And when you're alone in the dark,
May I ask permission to call you, to keep you company?
Because I've also been lonely.
Merlot, Shiraz, Cabernet Sauvignon - I've got so many I've never got to share with you.
So I apologize for assuming you felt even the smallest bit of enclosed feelings.
I've just noted that you don't care.
Three months had affected me so traumatically,
That I don't know if I remember the fourth and anything after.
I don't want to say goodbye, because the last time I said it,
I was with you and I felt at home (that's fine).
Well, that feeling of welcome within you is lost to me.
It's brought me down and I'm numb to it anymore.
