These circumstances, these days of the week
Ill pick them up, fold them in, make them origami
til words form within and give me something to sing
Boats, trains, aeroplanes..Ill take anything.
These sweet pieces of loves etiquette
Spoil my appetite and make me forget
Cant find the hole that enabled the fall
Cant find the quarters to make sense of it all
When you were blind, I wrote a letter in braille
Thinking that you would take it as just everyday mail,
I carved out a solider, wounded, laid on a cot
In quotes he asked you why it was that you shot
You left me looking for Sunday Comfort on a Monday afternoon.