I sang myself to sleep
Guess I still do
Could you hold my hand? I can't
I never learned how to
And all the years that hang like rain
I often wish them back again
But somewhat born and half awake
A parking lot, a bellyache
Oh
Oh
Oh
And every time I turn
To find there's no one there
I feel it like it's shining new
And fall again
And all the years that hang like rain
I often wish them back again
In ribbons tied around our waist
I held your arms, you wore my face
And something in the evening sky
Said, "Holy, holy sick am I"
But so are you, and there you stand
A garden wall, a weatherman
Oh
Oh
Oh
Oh
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