you can't write lyrics for songs you don't sing
you sure can't keep track of every loose string
the wind will blow
notes come so slow
and holding on tight is how to lose everything
it's not just the good songs that get stuck in your head
and sometimes you're glad to sleep in a cold, empty bed
the catchiest tune
or the loneliest room
can both be full of words that no one should have said
what you never had will be what you miss most
it's easiest to be haunted by nobody's ghost
empty can ache
stillness will shake
what rips you wide open are those doors that stay closed
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