| I wonder what you keep here with me
|
| I wonder what you keep in your teacup
|
| You hear me when I talk in my sleep
|
| I wonder if you can keep up
|
| I’ll let it burn and hope for your pardon
|
| Perched on the curb I fucked up my car on
|
| All the herbs I take; |
| let them harden off
|
| They can germinate in my garden
|
| Take all of my pearls away
|
| I’ma keep on faking every word I say
|
| I can let it burn and wait
|
| To rake the ashes of my garden up tomorrow
|
| And I imagined I was bleeding out
|
| That always happens when I’m sleeping now
|
| Too heavy in my saddle, can’t read anything too sad
|
| 'Cuz I dream everything I read about
|
| You either hold it in, or speak it out
|
| And I don’t really wanna freak you out
|
| I’ll write myself a letter, hope I get better
|
| I’ll do anything to please the crowd
|
| I’ll let it burn and hope for your pardon
|
| Perched on the curb I fucked up my car on
|
| All the herbs I take; |
| let them harden off
|
| They can germinate in my garden
|
| Take all of my pearls away
|
| I’ma keep on faking every word I say
|
| I can let it burn and wait
|
| To rake the ashes of my garden up tomorrow
|
| I’ma keep on faking every word I say
|
| I can let it burn and wait
|
| To rake the ashes of my garden up tomorrow
|
| Tomorrow, tomorrow |