My fists have been grasping real tight On ribbons that hang onto tangled up kites For the notes that will fill Up the saccharine still Of the air here tonight
But it feels like there's little to show For time that you've spent on things that no one can know How the lines in your hands Read like maps in the sand With nowhere specific to go
If you let it It all goes away
It's the strangest feeling at parts When things are okay right when the rain starts Like the dripping of stars On the roof of my car In the minutes just after dark
But sometimes I think I'm losing sight Of whatever it was that made everything right But I lack violins To make sorrows of sins So I guess that it must be alright
