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The yellowed page of the books and books I'd forgotten that I had These paperbacks they know their age they smell of weight and time that's resting warm The opened box beside the endless box parade that haunts my house Is fit to split with photographs that tell the wanderlust of years smashed on to years When all this actual life played out Where the hell on Earth was I? I rack my brains but it won't come Through water damaged bloodshot eyes The fleeting triumphs, brazen lies All seem to mingle into one I read your name under words in your elegant hand you probably don't mean now I fold the letter and think of a million and one things that I could have done different When all this actual life played out Where the hell on Earth was I? I rack my brains but it won't come Through water damaged bloodshot eyes The fleeting triumphs, brazen lies All seem to mingle into one One gigantic fairy tale Of friends I haven't seen in years Drinking 'til the daylight hurts |
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