| Like the leaves at my face
|
| He is a victim of gravity
|
| The unbearable color of things
|
| Gets him down
|
| And as his raincoat covers me
|
| We know it was never raining
|
| Sorry it was me
|
| Was I thinking out loud
|
| Sorry it was me
|
| Was I thinking out loud
|
| Sorry it was me
|
| Was I thinking out loud
|
| Sorry it was me
|
| Was I thinking out loud
|
| Like strings in a fan
|
| The shoelaces aren’t done
|
| The solitude reflection of his face
|
| Gets him down
|
| And as the shadow covers me
|
| I thought he was only sleeping
|
| Sorry it was me
|
| Was I thinking out loud
|
| Sorry it was me
|
| Was I thinking out loud
|
| Sorry it was me
|
| Was I thinking out loud
|
| Sorry it was me
|
| Was I thinking out loud
|
| His clothes on the floor
|
| Under a silver light
|
| The smell of lavender and tar
|
| Brings me down
|
| If the telephone should ring
|
| God knows it could never be him
|
| Sorry it was me
|
| Was I thinking out loud
|
| Sorry it was me
|
| Was I thinking out loud
|
| Sorry it was me
|
| Was I thinking out loud
|
| Sorry it was me
|
| Was I thinking out loud |