My thoughts on move-out day: as I'm cleaning up wine that I spilled, on the day that I moved in
The year of the fire,
The year of the flood,
The year I spent
sweeping my feelings
from under the rug.
That time I got the cops called on me
for playing piano too loudly,
in the middle of the night.
Our dirt path
they covered it with rocks,
My broken heart,
His bus pass, long gone.
The year of the flood,
The year I spent
sweeping my feelings
from under the rug.
That time I got the cops called on me
for playing piano too loudly,
in the middle of the night.
Our dirt path
they covered it with rocks,
My broken heart,
His bus pass, long gone.