If I was the kind who was inclined to cry I'd cry for the strings I cut loose And I'd cry for the bridges I burned Just to make myself a little room to move Now I'm full up with lessons learned And the days that I made just to throw them away I'm closing all the curtains I'm switching off the phone And I took down all your cameras And I opened the fridge And hung from the hinges With the eggs and the garlic The cheese and tomatoes The milk and the beer The strings and the bridges of a brand new year The first tear was a note and the note made a song And I hung the song from the hinges of the door Then I carried on just the same as before And nothing got different And nothing got changed But a new tune gets sweeter and sinpler with age If you leave it alone It gets sweeter and simpler and softer And slower and youger The longer you leave it alone So I wrote you anote and the note read "There's so much good silence In the emptiest heads" I had tipped my mouth towards pillow-less beds And poured out my brains and my guts into ears And for each dear black sentence A sheer lack of tears No, I don't want those words back I don't miss those years But if I could hold your knees again If I could kiss your toes Kiss your ribs Kiss your fingers Maybe then baby then I could get light and then I would be light
