There’s an echo where I crawl
I’ve been down for two weeks, you’ve got a lot of nerve
I am not a patient man
Take everything I gave you, sell the house, fill your pockets, buy something you can use
and I’m in Hell.
I could see:
our house, and our big yard, everything I wore,
bad habits I can’t lose:
I don’t lock the door, sleep too much, break bottles on the floor,
anytime anyone says anything at all
and I’m in Hell.
The sweetest thing you ever did was the last thing I remember.
My machines could cry,
sneaking in your bedroom window
turning off the lights you left on by the bed
and in every transistor is another quiet prayer, they
climb the stairs, steal the covers, watch you sleep
my machines could cry, and I’m in Hell
and I never was, and I never will be sorry for how I feel right now
and the sweetest thing you ever did was the last thing I remember.