I turned only 18 last week
You were turning 30 before you had teeth
I was drowning inside my relief
That I could hide forever between the sheets
And there was nothing left for me to speak
As you implore the ceiling that you've run plum out of sheep
And darling I'm afraid that you might sweep
Our love under the bed as you scrub the footprints clean, and
I couldn't know
Why your gardens never grow
But if you ask me to rack my brain, I'd
Say there's nothing left
And if you say you can't take me this way, I
Can't follow you home, oh
You were drifting slowly through the peat
As I was drinking it distilled till I felt not so weak
And the barn doors never transcended their creaks
As the wind howled and they lamented every leak
But there was so much left for us to see
Between the water's sunset, and its weary feet, and
I couldn't know
Why your gardens never grow
But if you ask me to rack my brain, I'd
Say there's nothing left
And if you say you can't take me this way, I
Can't follow you home, oh
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