Well, you're a lot to look at.
Not much to talk to.
But, OH.
I still wanna give it up to you.

Oh,
You brag you're a winner.
You gotta face that looks similar,
To an actor from my favorite television series.



*Alabama seems so far away when you so Alabama.
Alabama seems so far away when you say Alabama.

Oh, Tennessee wind is blowin',
Skies been lookin' grey.
**** hounds keep on whinin',
And I ain't seen your face.
Oh... in so many days...

I'd ask you over, baby,
But it seems there ain't no space.

Oh, Mose is in the front room,
Sleeping on the floor.
There's a leaky pipe in the bathroom,
And no henge on the door.

Oh, if I hardly please you,
Can't give you a home you'd like.
When I worry about the things I say,
Honey, that ain't no life.

Alright.
So it isn't normal.
Oppression floats though my night.
It soars through my days.
Nothing normal about it.
Oppressed always.

This isn't about anyone but me.
It's an imbalance.
Most certainly.

Mellow, constant.
Enthused, no.

Thoughts always seem a little bent.

Baby, time goes.
Things don't stay the same.

What feels so good today,
May later be our shame.

Babe, I'm lovin' you again.
I made you go away.

A couple hundred nights alone,
I'm a barkless stray.

Why do we keep going back for more?
We shot one down but they're still beating at the door.
Sorrow-turned-hatred come from deep within our core.
No reclaiming innocence when we return the blood and gore.

This morning was so new...
The sun it shown so brightly.
Everything said in truth,
Was all dishonesty.

Wednesday morning window, looks so dull.
You cut down the tree, Oh, you cut down the tree.
My hands don't know where to go,
And my voice has been off key.

Is there nothing I can do to fulfill ya?

The morning was so blue,
There's too much on a mind.
After just two dates with you,
The pretty things start to feel unkind.

Thursday morning window,
Should do great things to me.
But still you cut it down,
And sent it's driftwood off to sea.

Is there nothing can do to sustain ya?

This morning was me and you.
Later, you said no.
I said it just to scare you.
Didn't think that you'd really go.

Sunday morning window, Stained Glass.
The Bible's punishment has been cast.
Here I sit on the stub,
Of a tree that I so once loved.

I wish I was big.
20 Stories high.
Then you couldn't see through me, even if you tried.

With that I could,
Block you inside,
Of the town that, over the years, you've grown to despise.

Your concealer soaked face,
Will grow sad.
When the locals stop pitying the stories about your dad.

I'd pick you up,
With a crushing grip.
Say the things I've wanted to say.
Boast and quip.