| Don't have to hide it anymore, | |
| Our death by misadventure. | |
| The note you left me on the door said | |
| "go away, I'm sleeping." | |
| And so I leave, but I believe that | |
| You've been entertaining someone else. | |
| So I do what I think I'm supposed to, and | |
| I entertain myself. | |
| Don't have to bother anymore, | |
| Our death by misadventure. | |
| The scribbled pages on the floor | |
| Aall full of hope and sadness. | |
| Someday we could write a book that | |
| Tells of all the stupid things we've done. | |
| And when we do, you know that we won't get away | |
| Without offending some. | |
| Don't have to hide it anymore, | |
| our death by misadventure. | |
| The note you left me on the door said | |
| "Come on in, it's open." | |
| And when I do, the smell of you in lavender | |
| Comes at me like a truck. | |
| You know it never ever lasts quite long enough, And that is just my luck. (x3) | |
| Extra verse, not sung, hidden in the album notes: | |
| (I can't forget this memory. | |
| I can't forget this face. | |
| Now the kudzu covers all the trees | |
| And creeps up on the Queen Anne's Lace. | |
| I'm tangled in the vines that hold me up, | |
| but I'm not exactly stuck. | |
| In the end you know that we won't get away, | |
| And that is just my luck.) |
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