24 декември 2008

Tuesday 3:00 am


Tuesday 3:00 a.m.,
Once again I'm wide awake.
Waiting for time to mend this part of me that keeps on breaking.

Newpapers I threw away, washed the dishes in the sink.
3 a.m. on Tuesday, I have too much time to think.

And I could call up to heaven, or I could crawl down to hell,
Nothing will change the way things are and nothing ever will.

He thinks I can't hear him cry and I pretend that I don't know, or
about all the 3 a.m.'s he spends wrestling with your ghost.

I hear him call out to heaven, I watch him crawl down to hell,
He still can't get over you, I know he never will.

Nothing he says will bring you back,
He's got nothing left to show
But a pocket watch and memories of a kiss out in the snow.

And I hear him call out to heaven, I watch him crawl down to hell.
He still can't get over you, I know he never will.
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