how’d your humour get so dry?
I lick my lips, pull my collar high
it’s a clinging melancholy underlying this pleasant jolly
how’d ya get to be so easy to fool?

I put my six-string in the back
so I could document the mysterious lack of revenue
you need one and I want two
with pockets full of taking you still claim to be used, you say

chorus:
“from here I can’t tell if you are holding me back or holding me near
from here I can’t tell if you are holding me back or near?”

she says he makes me softer
when I deemed myself sufficiently rough
when I’d fenced in and padlocked
all of that messy stuff

I took it onto the ice, to where the sunken rowboat lies
splintered starboard frozen to the shore
I crouched down low, made an angel in the snow
tried to tell if she was fixing to stay or making to go, ‘cause

chorus

Bridge:
if you could afford another, you’d throw this in my face
relish the resultant chase
I am bulky burlap to your fine lace
laughing at my lack of grace

how’d your humour get so dry?…


©2003, Music and Lyrics by Layah Jane Singer-Wilson