there are spiders in my hair
building nests and killing flies
there are spiders in my hair
cobwebs in my heart, and fangs in my eyes
you don't have to do this, she said
as the lights flickered dim
and the rain started to fall
you don't have to do this, she said
i know, i said -
i know.

i am an open book
letters in the wind
words in the weather
there's a storm on the horizon
i tried warning you
once, twice -
i tried telling you
once, twice -
i am an open book
harshness in the mellow
i am an open book

i was a gear
turned twisted and forgotten
i was a number
in a cell hoping for freedom
i was a drink
with a twist and a set of flirthish hips
she wouldn't
give a scarf to someone
she didn't want warm

i have a soft spot for
tough times, i said from my stomach,
pouring out thick-red wine,
dusty lights and heavy air, breathless voices
and silverware clattered --
i can't be
your rock and
your punching bag, she said with one
corner of her lips curled,
reaching for her glass, a dry wooden door
shut, and the whined shriek of wind
stopped.

i was an open book
no one wanted to read
lessons of a pain that hurt
and visions from eyes that bleed
i was a frail hand on a rail
i was the last drag of your cigarette
i was a loud crash in the middle of the night
you didn't ask to be put here
with all the problems and the blame
you just work with what you got
you just work with what you got
you just work with what you got
you just work with what you got
what you got?

i spent all day updating dating
profiles and drinking champagne -
sipping iced coffee on bright beaches
i daydreamed as the palm trees waved -
pillows of smoke and wide blue skies
i wondered what you're doing today -
who you talk too, and what they say
i thought i saw the future
i saw it coming for my soul
i ran as fast as i could
i didn't realize i was letting go

where do we go when the lights cut
and the music stops?
i don't bother with the insects in the walls
i don't read the news or watch cable television
who's on the other side? i ask