/
I m looking more like my mother
I was so staggering waiting for you
I was so sure my belly bending knees, but nobody cared for more
It does no good to talk about anything
It does no good to tell you I m a wounded fiend
/
It s not the things we discover, it s in the way we try to cover with ground
I m not a flat fingered dullard I was so sure and never right
I was a tongue that s telling you that somebody else is trying
/
And I got no feeling about it at all
In this old season of doubt and love
And I got no reason to bury it here
/
I could fall backwards forever
I could be boxed inside
And living without, well don t blow my cover
It taken years to make a beautiful shroud
I got no use in talking about anything
And I could tell you it seems to be a haunting me
It does no good to talk about anything
/ 9x
Whooooa
