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This is my song, don't sing along |
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It's opinions disarrayed of might are drooped |
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And like good men, I am disabled |
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From understanding what we are taught not to condemn |
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In the kingdoms of the well and of the sick |
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And the hours that it took to think of this |
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And the road that got the best of you one day |
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Can you see at all? |
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Somehow I knew this wasn't it |
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Somehow I knew that we will see this to fruition |
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They said I was a ditsy housewife |
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And I have the crude opinions of unpracticed men |
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In my pajamas I still hold my record player |
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There's a hockey game on the table by the chair |
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And when it rains your hair begins to curl |
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Come the winds of dawn |
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Without your eye patch and your parrot |
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I've been informed it's national talk like a pirate day |
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Perhaps this singing is a refuge |
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From other equal uncomfortable thoughts |
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And you disregard the clock that's on the wall |
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It's a wonder you can disregard at all |
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You just try to find a softer way to fall |
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Back into my arms |
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Now he thought he was a citizen |
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But only in the vaguest sort of way |
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And we will take it to the people |
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And the people will then take it all away |
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With our pencils we are righteous and we're rough |
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And you wonder where your education starts |
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And you wipe your nose upon your pretty sleeve |
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And then you leave |
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I think we'd better call a cab |
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'Cause our thirst for this has made these keys no use |
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And I remember our last kiss |
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And I'll remember all the others from now on |
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Until it's time to sing this song over my grave |
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Like the boy who just forgets the mourning sheep |
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Or the girl who gets the hound dog to behave |
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I will sing to you |
