lyrics
Lately I’ve been walking to the soundtrack of the wind
Ending up in city parks all dressed in my tears again
I’ll sing a song about my rose and I’ll pick a daffodil
Throw it in my whiskey jar high on the windowsill
This poet ain’t so different from a prisoner in a cell
We’re both so full of heartache tales with no friends left to tell
And if you send me a matchbook I’d set those tales on fire
And build a big wall up to block out all the light
It’s hard keeping friends around
The preacher speaks so much of fear
“Take heart” they say, “this soon shall pass"
But it ain’t passed and it won’t pass
Wind picks up plum blossoms and I hear those wedding bells
Chiming in the distance paints my own dear brand of hell
This poet has no use for dead roses in the sun
Whiskey jars stack in the park as my soul comes undone
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