I'm looking more like my mother
I was so staggering waiting for you
I was so sure in my barely bending knees, and nobody cared for more
It does no good to talk about anything
It does no good to tell you I'm a wounded fiend
It's not the things we discover, it's in the way we try to cover with ground
I made a flat-fingered dollar I was so sure and never right
I was a tongue that's telling you that somebody else is trying
And I got no feeling about it at all
In this old season of doubt and love
And I got no reason to bury it here
I could go backwards forever
I could be boxed inside
And living without, well don't blow my cover
It's taken years to make a beautiful shroud
I got no use in talking about anything
And I could tell you it seems to be so hard to me
It does no good to talk about anything
Aaaaaaaaaaa-ooooooooo (6x)
AaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAH