My hair is a mess
Grandmother died last weekend
My heart is still wrecked from the last iceberg of this early winter
I find that only the beat between my ears carries me to sleep
After I’ve cried through the feathers in my pillow.
Shouldnt someone be taking this all down
The world is going to end next week they say
The record spins backwards and I hear his voice
I open another book searching for my lost pride
The nails break on the chalk board
As the butterfly freezes, a snail creeps along the same branch.
I'm still pretending that I didin't meet you that night in the snow
It only helps when I dream of sunny days.
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