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Willow, weep for me |
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Bow your tallest tree |
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Down to the infamous hands |
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Of someone no one understands |
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I'm not unique in this |
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It's based on none but my mistake |
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At night I lie awake |
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Thinking of all the hearts I'd happily break |
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It's cruel I know, at least they tell me so |
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Well, someone lock me up |
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And throw away the key |
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Because I'm not ashamed, oh no , oh, willow |
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That I only write love songs to those whom I don't love |
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I only reach for him who's tied to someone else's glove |
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That which I hold inside, which I admire and deride |
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Which I protect and hide is yours |
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Willow, weep for me, don't think I don't see |
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This life I'm living in two but still it's something I must do |
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I'm not unique in this, nor am I special, sweet or kind |
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I court a thousand smiles, yet I keep my own to hide behind |
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It's cruel I know, at least they tell me so |
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Well someone lock me up |
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And throw away the key |
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Because I'm not ashamed, oh no, oh, willow |
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That I only write love songs to those whom I don't love |
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I only reach for him who's tied to someone else's glove |
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That which I hold inside, which I admire and deride |
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Which I protect and hide is yours |
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Slander and dissension, they're parlor games to me |
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Papers overrun with lies too mad to mention |
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You say they never hurt you, mo consequence, I'm happy |
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We're much too far above it all but oh no, that's not true |
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These wicked pastimes take their toll |
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These tyrant vices break your soul |
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Deliver me from all I am |
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And all I never want to be |
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I love you |
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(Oh willow, willow, willow) |
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Doubt me not |
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Rewrite this plot for all to see |
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And I only write love songs to those whom I don't love |
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I only reach for him who's tied to someone else's glove |
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That which I hold inside, which I admire and deride |
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Which I protect and hide is yours |
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Bend your branches to the ground and hold me close |
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Let me harmonize with all we knew |
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Share your sympathy and weep for me |
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Oh, willow, heal the hearts I've broken |
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Make me pure and start my song anew |
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For I only write love songs to those whom I don't love |
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I only reach for him who's tied to someone else's glove |
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That which I hold inside, which I admire and deride |
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Which I protect and hide is yours |
