If I was the kind who was inclined to cry
I'd cry for the strings I cut loose
And I'd cry for the bridges I burned
Just to make myself a little room to move
Now I'm full up with lessons learned
And the days that I made just to throw them away
I'm closing all the curtains
I'm switching off the phone
And I took down all your cameras
And I opened the fridge
And hung from the hinges
With the eggs and the garlic
The cheese and tomatoes
The milk and the beer
The strings and the bridges of a brand new year
The first tear was a note and the note made a song
And I hung the song from the hinges of the door
Then I carried on just the same as before
And nothing got different
And nothing got changed
But a new tune gets sweeter and sinpler with age
If you leave it alone
It gets sweeter and simpler and softer
And slower and youger
The longer you leave it alone
So I wrote you anote and the note read
"There's so much good silence
In the emptiest heads"
I had tipped my mouth towards pillow-less beds
And poured out my brains and my guts into ears
And for each dear black sentence
A sheer lack of tears
No, I don't want those words back
I don't miss those years
But if I could hold your knees again
If I could kiss your toes
Kiss your ribs
Kiss your fingers
Maybe then baby then I could get light and then
I would be light