The bearer of bad news is talking to the breeze
Floating forth the message
Hiding in the trees
The weary voice inside you is darker in the night
The healing hand
The morning light
While you’re out wasting time with the right guy
With the right guy
The whisperings
In the middle of the morn
Liquor rests
Upon your words
But still in my slow beating heart
I’m not ashamed
Oh maybe I
In the rising morning light
Should be blamed
And so it seems
I will see you once again, in my dreams
It’s sort of strange
You only haunt me when I’m trying to leave you behind
Light this sidewalk
Drunk I stumble
Words from my mouth, hear me mumble
Who am I to fall in something
Close to loving
Ever hurting?
