(no subject)
Keep your ghosts to yourself
put them up high on the shelf
When you sleep next to me tonight
All those hills you push up boulders
It must get so heavy carrying all your past loves upon your shoulders
All those broken girls you glue together
You're no Sisyphus, love, you've only damned yourself
Keep, keep, keep your blue lips shut
No, I don't need no cold hands
Don't need to hear your tragedies
You've gained winter, but lost pounds
and your self pity is making the rounds
on every bar stool on this side of town
'Til all the bartenders know of your lost paradise
(Yeah, all the bartenders roll their eyes,
Though most of them can empathize)
No, you don't need any make-up
You've got plenty shadows in your eyes
You're so tired that you haunt yourself
just give your ghost up
if you plan on sleeping here tonight
* * *
Sunday's such a sober town
if it was Friday when you came around
You may have played a different part
I would have taken you downtown
yeah, I would have brought you down
Brought you down with me.
But I've got a amends to make
Things with the Lord that I'd like to set straight
See, I've got shit to do, my friend
I've a heavy heart, and and empty fridge
and my confessions are longer than my grocery list
If you wanted, you could join me
My Uncle's suit and tie might fit
Hold hands and face the firing squad
***
Sunday's my favourite bedtime story
Told by God at the end of the week
Something about a heaven that's waiting
He says it needs some renovating
He says that it will inherit the meek.
My Father tucks me in,
and I hear Him say,
get rested for a brand new day
Hear Him say,
The next big thing is on the way.
put them up high on the shelf
When you sleep next to me tonight
All those hills you push up boulders
It must get so heavy carrying all your past loves upon your shoulders
All those broken girls you glue together
You're no Sisyphus, love, you've only damned yourself
Keep, keep, keep your blue lips shut
No, I don't need no cold hands
Don't need to hear your tragedies
You've gained winter, but lost pounds
and your self pity is making the rounds
on every bar stool on this side of town
'Til all the bartenders know of your lost paradise
(Yeah, all the bartenders roll their eyes,
Though most of them can empathize)
No, you don't need any make-up
You've got plenty shadows in your eyes
You're so tired that you haunt yourself
just give your ghost up
if you plan on sleeping here tonight
* * *
Sunday's such a sober town
if it was Friday when you came around
You may have played a different part
I would have taken you downtown
yeah, I would have brought you down
Brought you down with me.
But I've got a amends to make
Things with the Lord that I'd like to set straight
See, I've got shit to do, my friend
I've a heavy heart, and and empty fridge
and my confessions are longer than my grocery list
If you wanted, you could join me
My Uncle's suit and tie might fit
Hold hands and face the firing squad
***
Sunday's my favourite bedtime story
Told by God at the end of the week
Something about a heaven that's waiting
He says it needs some renovating
He says that it will inherit the meek.
My Father tucks me in,
and I hear Him say,
get rested for a brand new day
Hear Him say,
The next big thing is on the way.