| I waited 'till the morning
|
| To put my pen to use
|
| I wrote it out a hundred times
|
| But it never seemed as true
|
| As when I stumbled home
|
| And felt the words upon my lips
|
| You grabbed me by my arms
|
| And smelled the liquor in my truth
|
| I said, «I'm swimming in a cage…»
|
| The morning grows in silence
|
| And I watched it fill the room
|
| Earlier than dawn
|
| You crept into the kitchen’s light
|
| You always were an early bird
|
| And I was always tired
|
| So I laid in bed alone, awake
|
| And thought about the coming day
|
| I said, «I'm swimming in a cage»
|
| «I'm swimming in a cage…»
|
| I folded up my page
|
| And left it by the kitchen sink
|
| Where I knew that you would find it
|
| When you came back from the yard
|
| You’d be setting down the basket
|
| Full of apples from the tree
|
| And with two hands you would open up my letter
|
| And begin to read:
|
| «I'm swimming in a cage…»
|
| «And I don’t want you drowning»
|
| And as my boots turned up dust
|
| I just hoped for understanding |