She lifts her skirt up to her knees,
skips through the great meadow
in her bare feet with laughter.
She never learned to count her blessings,
Chooses instead to dwell
in her disasters.
She walks on down the hill
through grass grown green and still.
It's hard somehow
to let go of her pain.
On past, the busted back
of that old and granite Cadillac,
that sinks into this field
collecting solemn rain.
Will I always feel this way
so empty, so estranged?
And of these cut throat rustic sunsets
these cold and fog white mornings,
I have grown weary.
If through my dusty dime store lips,
If I spoke these words out loud
would no one hear me?
Outside the rain is tapping on the leaves .
To me it sounds like they're applauding us,
though I find it dreary.
Will I always feel this way
so empty, so estranged?
Well, I’ve looked my demons in the eyes
lay bare my chest, said ‘do your best
to destroy me’.
I've been to hell and back so many times
I must admit
you kinda bore me.
There's a lot of things that can kill a man.
There's a lot of ways to die.
Yes, and some friends already have,
and walk beside me.
There's a lot of things that I don't understand,
why so many people steal and lie.
It's the hurt I hide
that fuels the fire inside me.
Will I always feel this way
so empty, so estranged?
