Lyrics
Seven blankets, aren't enough
to keep two hundred draughts, from getting in one bed.
I'm alright, or maybe will be if you wait a hundred days to go home.
I,
clean up real nice.
I'm sleeping straight through the night
these days.
I'm,
dead to the the world.
I'm sleeping straight, through the ice storm.
Waking to another world
where you don't have, to leave the house
to go to work.
Limited by stiffing and falling,
and getting "no", shaking your head
and coming back inside.
We
can make a fire.
We have enough food saved up for weeks.
And just,
before the pipes froze
I ran the faucet, and filled the tub.
A pair of losers all?,
a tooth that's coming loose,
a neck without a noose,
a fire in the chute,
the crinkle of
the newspaper lighting
up.
I know now it's time for bringing back the world (?)
because you were stung
like we were cured by your distaste (?)
two were trying to be true and forgiving.