| I pushed it hard
|
| That goddamn wrecking ball
|
| And I waited for the weight to swing around but it never did
|
| And the crows they fell
|
| Around my eyes and still
|
| No sign of that ball and chain
|
| I pushed it hard
|
| That goddamn wrecking ball
|
| What kind of pendulum never comes back home?
|
| You start to miss it some
|
| The way you miss the rain
|
| The way you miss the fighting when the war is won…
|
| But what I miss the most is knowing just exactly where it hurts
|
| Is knowing just exactly what is wrong
|
| And what I want, and what I want…
|
| I miss the ghost trees
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| The weary midnight drives
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| The taste of loneliness in the air beyond the towns
|
| I miss the resonance of those trigger words
|
| That crazy one track mind
|
| Sometimes I miss the cold…
|
| But what I miss the most is knowing just exactly where it hurts
|
| Is knowing just exactly what is wrong
|
| And what I want, and what I want…
|
| I’m remembering the sunlight coming down in shades of blue
|
| The sorrow of the aftermath tightening the noose
|
| I’m thinking of the night that all the lights went out
|
| And how I learned to see in the dark, in the dark, in the dark…
|
| I pushed it hard, that goddamn wrecking ball
|
| What kind of pendulum never comes back home? |