on my table there’s a cold fresh martini
crumpled papers an old cigarette
I spend my days pouring my life onto the pages
tales of lost love and ancient regret

I still wear the locket you gave me for my birthday
well I kept it though I’m really not sure why
some days I swear I hear you singing through it to me
a river of words I drink from when I’m dry

so many reasons not to stay
so many chances to walk away
nothing sadder than nothing left to say
I kept holding out
hoping you might change
you went on breaking my heart anyway
yeah you I guess it’s what you do

the Sunshine Inn motel outside of Houston
matchbook said “the place it never rains”
where you swore you would always be my songbird
and I lost myself to you in those three days


these days you’ll find me down at Harry’s
it’s a dive bar where I like to spend my time
it’s dark inside the food ain’t much to speak of
but it’s peaceful and the people there are kind


COUNTRY (255) - Folk (245) - Hemingway039s (1) - Songbird (1) - World (262)


Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *