I tried to do a painting but id worn out all of my brushes
and i tried to stop complaining about my pain and about my crutches
but the early mornings draining all the sane from without my body
and I never knew restraint like a saint without a crux does.
i heard your wavering voice at the end of the telephone line
well id prefer if this choice didnt mean the bending of time
but the early mornings chorus is mending the cracks in this smile
and the words of a friend forces me to send you a piece of my mind.
i tried to play guitar but the strings all broke one by one
and if i could have arrived earlier theres some things that i should have done
but instead i bribed and bartered and sang at the top of my lungs
to the tune of a martyr whos saving only the sun.
is this what they mean by faith to walk and follow blindly?
to stumble through the dream and then to suddenly find you?
and the early morning streams of sunlight reminds me
that it seems the same whether we talk in words or silence.
i know here lately its rare we are even sober
but rebecca, is there a way to start over?
i found it strange when the lust lead into laughter
and rebecca, is this just another chapter?
this morning its cold outside too cold to wander out
but i thought you should know what i am pondering about
i know here lately that things have gotten complicated
but rebecca, theres no debating, i am waiting it out.
