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S. Colvin |
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I don't know what else to do |
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I would rather do anything |
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Than write this song for you |
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And perpetuate this thing |
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In my head, in my living room |
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With the usual arsenal |
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Of broken chords and rusty strings |
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To surrender all |
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And I don't like to be so weak |
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Retreating behind these lines |
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The same old tongue-in-cheek |
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Regretting that both are mine |
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And I don't like to live this way |
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This is really true |
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But I know better than to pray now |
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About what I just have to learn to do |
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But imagine the nerve of God |
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Letting me let you in |
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And I thought I could let you go in grace |
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I've gotta think again |
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Because right now I would be bought |
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and sold |
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To see your face somewhere |
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I would sell your sweet soul |
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Just to touch your crazy black gold hair |
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I don't care what's really real |
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I was someone that you'd heard of |
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I saw heaven in your eyes |
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And we made a deal |
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And that's what I know of love |
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Music, it never goes |
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But I told you I hate that shit |
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When people say'well you know |
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You got a song out of it' |
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But I don't know what else to do |
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I would rather be anywhere |
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Than here without you |
