Song | Not Alone |
Artist | Thea Gilmore |
Album | Murphy's Heart |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
You sat in the back with all of your bags packed | |
A torn bit of paper from under the stairs | |
And you're following your heart but the heart is an axe | |
And it’s calling her number but she isn't there | |
So it cuts through the air and it chalks up the losses | |
And carves her initials into your right hand | |
Cos truth is a trick it’s a tired dominatrix | |
But truth’s not exactly what you had planned | |
Now you're driving driving home | |
And you're sure you're not alone. | |
She lit you like christmas the day you first met her | |
A red dress and champagne a spider of smoke | |
And you know yeah you know that you should have known better | |
But she pressed up against you and laughed at your jokes | |
It'd sure been a while since you'd felt that it mattered | |
Sweat and white skin and the smell of perfume | |
One little touch your illusion was shattered | |
You led her out to your car and you rented a room | |
Now you're driving driving home | |
And you're sure you're not alone. | |
For a while the pretense was a welcome companion | |
A colourful footnote in a black and white week | |
And you swear yeah you swear that you did respect her | |
But respect just showed up in blue marks on her cheek | |
And she tried a few tricks but you knew how to find her | |
And then she just left like smoke in a glass | |
And there wasn't a trace save a newsprint reminder | |
You'd say you'd been working if anyone asked | |
Now you're driving driving home | |
And you're sure you're not alone | |
Now you're driving driving home | |
And you'd swear you're not alone. |
You sat in the back with all of your bags packed | |
A torn bit of paper from under the stairs | |
And you' re following your heart but the heart is an axe | |
And it' s calling her number but she isn' t there | |
So it cuts through the air and it chalks up the losses | |
And carves her initials into your right hand | |
Cos truth is a trick it' s a tired dominatrix | |
But truth' s not exactly what you had planned | |
Now you' re driving driving home | |
And you' re sure you' re not alone. | |
She lit you like christmas the day you first met her | |
A red dress and champagne a spider of smoke | |
And you know yeah you know that you should have known better | |
But she pressed up against you and laughed at your jokes | |
It' d sure been a while since you' d felt that it mattered | |
Sweat and white skin and the smell of perfume | |
One little touch your illusion was shattered | |
You led her out to your car and you rented a room | |
Now you' re driving driving home | |
And you' re sure you' re not alone. | |
For a while the pretense was a welcome companion | |
A colourful footnote in a black and white week | |
And you swear yeah you swear that you did respect her | |
But respect just showed up in blue marks on her cheek | |
And she tried a few tricks but you knew how to find her | |
And then she just left like smoke in a glass | |
And there wasn' t a trace save a newsprint reminder | |
You' d say you' d been working if anyone asked | |
Now you' re driving driving home | |
And you' re sure you' re not alone | |
Now you' re driving driving home | |
And you' d swear you' re not alone. |
You sat in the back with all of your bags packed | |
A torn bit of paper from under the stairs | |
And you' re following your heart but the heart is an axe | |
And it' s calling her number but she isn' t there | |
So it cuts through the air and it chalks up the losses | |
And carves her initials into your right hand | |
Cos truth is a trick it' s a tired dominatrix | |
But truth' s not exactly what you had planned | |
Now you' re driving driving home | |
And you' re sure you' re not alone. | |
She lit you like christmas the day you first met her | |
A red dress and champagne a spider of smoke | |
And you know yeah you know that you should have known better | |
But she pressed up against you and laughed at your jokes | |
It' d sure been a while since you' d felt that it mattered | |
Sweat and white skin and the smell of perfume | |
One little touch your illusion was shattered | |
You led her out to your car and you rented a room | |
Now you' re driving driving home | |
And you' re sure you' re not alone. | |
For a while the pretense was a welcome companion | |
A colourful footnote in a black and white week | |
And you swear yeah you swear that you did respect her | |
But respect just showed up in blue marks on her cheek | |
And she tried a few tricks but you knew how to find her | |
And then she just left like smoke in a glass | |
And there wasn' t a trace save a newsprint reminder | |
You' d say you' d been working if anyone asked | |
Now you' re driving driving home | |
And you' re sure you' re not alone | |
Now you' re driving driving home | |
And you' d swear you' re not alone. |